Vas Messenger
by BlueStarlightWriter
Summary: She longed for a place to call her own. Andromeda seemed so simple. But not everything goes to plan. Love, heartbreak, betrayal, are but a few of the things the young quarian will endure within her new life, unknowing amid the chaos that there is a darker thing hunting her every step that cannot be so easily slain. Jaal x OC
1. Nexus Arising

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter One: Nexus Arising

She was born in the heart of the crown jewel of the galaxy, dwelled within a towering silver city adrift in a starlit world, held on the edge of an empire of light and commerce known to the heralding populace as Illium.

On the surface, there seemed to be no trouble in this world, only peace and prosperity, with a rich culture born down through the ages. To the younger generations, there was the potentiality for a wisdom to inspire any matriarch and a thirst for knowledge that would have had any contemporary scholar writhing in jealousy.

But it was beneath the sheen and glamour, hidden under the blinding serenity and fruitful commerce that held the true intentions of Illium's leaders, of the culture rich in fortune, only for blood and wine to leak from the silver and gold core.

From the very beginning of her existence, her fate had been set. She was the promised child to a noble descent with parents known throughout the city for their ties to weapon dealing and black market trade. She was to be observed from the very instant of her existence. Every flicker of her pale white eyes, every asymmetrical freckle upon her silver skin, every gesture and word was noted, and a scheme of her fate was laid bare before her, so intricate and masterful that it held a future with the most potential to come to pass; completed before she could even begin to walk Illium's earth.

But amid the rivalry of her brothers, the shackles of expectation straining her hands and the beating breath of reality baring her down, her light in the realm of studies and law had gradually begun to flicker as candlelight upon a gentle wind, the once dawn of that luminescence gently descending into eventual shadow.

And so when she was young, barely old enough to be labelled a maiden, she stowed away upon a cargo ship and journeyed far from Illium. She remembered the distant lights of her silver home fading from view when she sought a fate that not even a prophet could foresee.

That decision had led her far into the galaxy, from distant moons to vast star-ships, learning throughout her years until she reached Earth's Galactic Space Station, one decade later.

.

"Congratulations on your successful acceptance into the Andromeda Initiative."

Iyali'Talaas vas Messenger was not the first, nor the last, to observe the enormity of the steel spacecraft wavering in the moon's orbit from her place within the space station. She gazed over the lights of the many windows that lay aboard and the star-cut back that tore the veil of space around it, as though propelling its great wings through translucent waves while resting above the silver body of Luna. It floated with a grace of truly masterful engineering and craft, flickering with more than possibly a thousand denizens already on board.

' _A testament to an age of great ingenuity,'_ she thought amusedly, though in truth she was in awe. ' _She could fly thousands, perhaps millions away from the dull expanse of the Milky Way, away from the vague and familiar, into a thousand-thousand lost stars. And I am to be one of her passengers.'_

It was a truly marvellous star-ship, the Nexus, as shimmering and beautiful as she wished her Messenger had once been, before it had landed several years prior into the mountains of a local trading port, now left to stone and rubble.

The quarian, for that was what she was, a species so far from human yet also peculiarly similar, gently drew circles into her necklace, quietly snagging the ink-shaded armour of her enviro-suit with the chain, while absentmindedly following the engravings with one of her two fingers.

The shard of her Messenger thrummed over the metal and sanguine shawl covering it, lighting up upon the familiar touch. It was only a small piece of her ship's heart, a piece she had ripped from the wreckage that at the time, was no more than a tiny lifeless husk. Yet with determination and great effort, she had managed to mend the broken circuits and replace the shattered ruby at its centre, all of which allowed the core to oscillate and glow, maintaining some amount of life to her once prideful memory.

The little trinket was enough to give her comfort and warmed the leaden swell of pity in her breast. If it was not for it and her friend, she doubted she could have made it to the station's docking bay intact, or at all.

The chamber she stood in was but one section of a greater, grander vessel, clamped onto the hardened rocky terrain of Earth's moon with the towering blue and green crescent just out of reach. Passengers from other civilisations landed onto the station's main docking bay via angular shuttles, their eyes twinkling in wonder of the station's bright lights and many doorways. They all left as swiftly as they had came, separating once their loved ones had been found.

The last the quarian had seen of them was when they had passed, her last sight being a vivid movement out of the corner of her visor, where the shadows scurried across silver floor with their cases chasing soon after them. The passengers had followed their uniformed guides without complaint, she had noticed, before their disappearance, as if a deity beckoning them to some mystical assignation among the stars.

Yet when Iyali'Talaas had first arrived, she had to admit that the space-station had been more than what she had expected: walls of white and silver, clean and reflective, with holograms lighting the way through each separate corridor in variations of shuddering blue and green streams, advertising the initiative, space-travel and requirements for the expedition. Even the founder of the Andromeda Initiative herself, Jien Garson, spoke to all those who passed her holographic emulation. It was all so exciting.

But, alas, her excitement soon began to dissipate due to the constant footsteps, chatting and noise that came from the oncoming crowds of people, so she and her friend had found a secluded area far from their prying eyes and waited for when their name was called from the registry office.

She needed the silence, away from the pulsing, spine-curling screams and questions reverberating from the great, glassy dome of the ceiling. She took a deep breath, tasting the cold recycled air of her enviro-suit and allowed herself some relevant peace of mind; clarity with her thoughts.

Her awareness, however, soon drifted, falling out of sync with the scene of dark and twinkling jewels beyond the window, to the stranger shifting impatiently behind her. The quarian tugged on her necklace chain in thought, only to chew her bottom lip when the stranger's shadow shaded the brilliance of the Nexus. Gradually turning from the window, brows laboriously drawn, she stilled at the look of the officer and poised her spare hand along the sharp curve of her hip.

"Did you hear me?" the officer asked upon her silence, voice gruff and chiselled. She half-wondered if he was a hardened war veteran. She saw wars in his scars and wrinkles, though humans were terribly weak in her eyes, and bruised each time their tongue clattered against their teeth.

The officer regarded her in a mindful manner, folding his arms into a tight knot, though his uniform seemed far too stretched and rippled at the seams.

"Clear as crystal, officer," the quarian smiled, gently bowing her head. "It's a true pleasure being on such a fine craft, though I would prefer to be on the ship beyond this stationed vessel."

The officer returned her smile in kind, not that he could have seen hers behind the shaded visor of her helmet, and unbound his arms to scratch the back of his neck. "I bet you would, miss. Heck, I'm glad you think so. I've seen too many nervous civilians here for one night. Don't know whether to pity the poor fools that can't seem to make their mind up about being here, but it's too late to back out now for them, I guess."

"They have second thoughts on this?"

"Aye, but who wouldn't? It isn't like this is a two-way trip, miss," the officer sighed, peering out to the cluster of humans huddled together by the loading sections of the station. Their hands were held and heads were raised high to the monitors hung from the ceiling; waiting, it seemed, for their name to be called out. "But, I doubt you've come here to listen to an old man ramble. You can call me Hollier, Corvin Hollier, and for now and all intensive purposes, I'll be your leading officer on our little voyage into the unknown."

"Into the unknown, he says," a turian muttered, gaining the attention of Iyali'Talaas and the officer. Braced against a pillar was a peculiar creature, tall and bird-like in appearance with a heavy layer of armour plating keeping his thick carapace from being exposed. His talons twitched against the metal, his beak-like maw curled into a deep scowl, but though the turian's gaze remained focused on the overlook, his voice, deep with the tint of a distinctive flanging effect, was directed, unmistakably, at them. "Spirits, it's like he's explaining water to a hanar. This isn't our first journey into the unknown, likely won't be our last at the rate we're signing up for suicide missions."

The quarian's fingers tugged her necklace, lips tight when she frowned. "That's no way to talk, Vitarian. Leave the matter be."

"Oh please, Iya, we've seen more stars than any of the walking souls on this ship," snorted Syrus, leisurely falling back upon the pillar with a thud and raising his head. "Might as well give it to us straight, human. No need to glory-coat this little expedition of yours."

"If you're gettin' cold feet," the officer said, throwing his thumb back to the closed door of the entrance way, "it's too late to turn back. As negotiated in your contracts before the meet, the Initiative has already saved places for you aboard and all preparations have been made. There are personnel that could take your place, of course, but none with the prowess we saw during your training, turian, nor your biotic assembly, miss. You're useful assets, no doubt about it and your place on the shuttle is non refundable."

"Sounds more like a prison than an expedition," Iyali'Talaas whispered, pressing her gloved hand over her chest in an attempt to subtly subdue an old, pale fear of forced imprisonment.

Syrus' gaze softened upon the action, following her line of sight to the universe beyond them.

She stared at the glimmering star-ship in the distance, observed how the sun illuminated its silvery bow. If that was to be her new home, she would be contempt with it, she had decided, for it was far better to be on a vessel filled with unfamiliar faces than to face those of an ill-fated past that wished nothing other than her death.

"We made our choice when we signed your papers," she said, returning her attention to the officer before her. "We're at peace with it. And it isn't like we were given much of a choice."

Corvin Hollier let the side of his mouth wry upwards, but it seemed that part of her remark did not bode well with him. His face fell sour, reminding Iyali'Talaas of a time when she tried to savor the taste of a century-old brand of turian brandy without spitting the substance from her tongue. "A bad background, huh? Reaper followin' your shadow?"

The question, for the briefest moment, changed the atmosphere between the two to something decidedly chillier, and Iyali'Talaas felt her guard rising, fingers itching for her shouldered rifle.

Syrus noticed the stiffening of her stance and gently clicked his mandibles, calming her nerves and causing her shoulders to sag just a little. "Something like that."

A knowing nod was her answer. A dark shadow had crawled over Officer Hollier's marred face. "I know that all too well," he said, stroking the tips of his grey beard. "Andromeda might be a god-send then, figuratively or literally depending on how we do during our flight. But, apologies. This is a momentous occasion for you two. Wouldn't want to ruin it. Now, for the briefing."

"You mean like you already have? I mean, the chat has been pleasant so far and all. I wasn't planning to do anything in next decade, so why end this little discussion now?"

"Alright, turian, that's enough out of you. This is important so you're goin' to want to listen to what I have to say."

Curious, the turian humoured his potential superior, touching the outer shell of his face-plate to dim his shaded specs.

Taking that as confirmation, Officer Hollier stepped away from the two species and angled his left arm out, pointing directly towards the ground. Hovering his right arm over his left, his omni-tool - a powerful hand-held device of a computer microframe, sensor analysis pack and manufacturing fabricator - automatically activated, illuminating his arm with a golden terminal.

The officer pressed his fingers into the keys, plotting objectives and reading his prepared speech simultaneously until a fabrication lit up before Iyali'Talaas and Syrus, shown before them as the Nexus, floating just a few inches from the floor, with several smaller star-ships near its proximity.

The officer cleared his voice and recited his speech, "This journey is a major milestone for all of humanity as well as any other species in the Milky Way Galaxy. You are about to embark on a voyage unlike anythin' ever attempted before and make no mistake, this is a one way trip."

Peering up to discern their reactions, only to find mild contempt, he continued, "Six hundred years from now you will awake from cryostasis on the outskirts of the Andromeda galaxy. Our research teams have spent the best of this cycle's technology on preparing the voyage to be ready for any opposition, but not everything can be calculated. You will be asleep for a very long time and chances are the planets will have changed from what research we've already gathered, perhaps dramatically. The ship you see in the centre is the Nexus, which is the central hub of our little community. Separated from that are five arks: the Hyperion, Natanus, Parcero and so on. You both, with your history in extensive field work and combat, will be aboard the Nexus during your voyage, and will be among the first squads tasked with accompanying the Hyperion's objective in exploration for potential colonisation.

"I'm not going to romantisize this for you. The other officers here will tell their subordinates that the flight to Andromeda will be smooth-sailing, that there are no substantial threats. Let me be the one to tell you that they're all liars. The truth is, we don't rightly know what will be awaiting us. Hell, we might not even make it a third of the way before our engines burn out, an asteroid hits us or we're knocked off course from our planned trajectory. All I can tell you is that we have a chance for a better life. An adventure of sorts. And if we do make it to the golden worlds, then I'll happily buy you both the first round of drinks. I can't ask much more of you than that."

He swiped his hand out and the star-ships faded. "You knew the stakes before you signed the papers, just like you rightly said, miss. Whatever you're running from, you can be sure that it won't be following you. Heck, it'll probably have died out when you wake up from your beauty sleep in six hundred years time. Got to unload some amount of weight from your conscience, huh?"

Iyali'Talaas could only nod. If anything could put her fears to rest indefinitely, it would be that knowledge.

"I just have one question before I send you on your way. Normally, with your criteria, you would have been placed on one of the arks with the remainder of your people, not segregated and confined to a primarily mixed set of species aboard the Nexus, who I have to say, are higher up the chain of command than myself. But there have been some complications, and it's well known that no quarian ship will be flying to Andromeda anytime soon.

"So I have to wonder how you managed to request to be on the Nexus and to ask, what made you decide to join the Initiative? Aren't your people susceptible to health risks? What if your suit were to break or need patching while you're in cryostasis? Wouldn't you prefer to be with your own people?"

The quarian's arms roughly folded, fingers tapping the crooks of her elbows. "I'm not sure how that is any of your concern."

"You're part of my crew now, miss. Your health is my concern as if your friend's. If you need any specialties due to your circumstances, I'm going to need to know for the logs."

"I've not been with my people, Officer Hellion, for over twelve years," she whispered, a sharp hiss resonating through her voice emitter. "I've lasted longer than I would have with them, I've learned to adapt without them and I'm sure that if my suit breaks that I'll have more control over the effects your atmosphere has over my body than they would have on theirs. I requested to join and my request was accepted, despite the potential of no other quarians being with me."

"That may be, but you'll be alone out there, away from the rest of your people, in a new galaxy, no less. Doesn't that frighten you? Most would find it lonely."

"I do not find companionship solely among those of one specific race, officer. Despite what it may seem, it is better this way. Syrus is all I need. Let that be enough to sate your curiosity."

The officer, to the quarian's uncertainty, did not seem surprised by her reaction. In fact, he only regarded her with mild interest, his question not having been completely answered, but that, perhaps, was enough for him for the moment. He flicked his omni-tool back online, searched through the data files to extract the security procedure. After activating and scanning the quarian and turian's omni-tools, he transferred the encryption code to their systems, granting them security clearance to proceed onto the next stage of their journey. Their omni-tools flashed green before vanishing.

"There you go. You're now free to join the Initiative."

The quarian glanced down at her arm before peering behind her. Butterflies fluttered in her gut upon the sight of the Nexus, the star-ship only seeming a few steps away. She had waited so long for such an opportunity, and now that it was within mere walking distance...

"Not far now, kid. Not far now," whispered Syrus, placing his talon softly upon her shoulder.

Iyali'Talaas quietly stared at their reflections, adding to memory what they looked like in case it was the last chance she would get to see them in that way. She took a deep breath and laced their fingers.

Only time would tell, six hundred years later, in Andromeda.


	2. The Thawed of Andromeda

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Two: The Thawed of Andromeda

All men dream, but not equally. Some dream of idle things, small memory of mild serenity. Some dream in the dusty recesses of unconsciousness, only to find vanity in their effort.

But some unique individuals, who's imaginations leap and soar upon the slumbering realm, find in themselves an excitement of possibilities, so much so that they could find from the most barren of stones an inner crystal. Dreaming, after all was a form of design and planning. And the young quarian had six hundred years to plan her future, until her mind ended its drift in the seas of chimera, willing to be tested when the waking world called her home.

That year was 2819.

The Nexus had journeyed through dark space with what felt like little resistance. The end of the trip in some way was inevitable, no matter whether the star ship had altered its course or lost all power functions, but waking up from stasis was supposed to be a gentle process, not one that brought with it excessive quantities of weakness and discomfort.

The icy feeling had swiftly receded from the young quarian's body despite it's presumed slowness. Her enviro-suit had automatically began to warm her century-dormant inner body organs and outer skin, spiking her vital signs and coaxing her back into the living, breathing world.

Her first breath was in a new galaxy, even if her air was filtered and not truly from Andromeda. But she had hoped, during her stasis, that her plan had worked and that soon, she may have actually been able to feel what other species could. But her living itself was an achievement.

Upon her wake, light and shadow warred against her visor for an unsteady equilibrium, settled only in the far corners of her stasis pod where steel and wire entwined. The light's feeble play for power came from beyond her ice-speckled window, with the sharp actions of shadowed men on the outside suggesting disarray or maybe violence. But Iyali'Talaas vas Messenger found it difficult to concentrate, for air had become dislodged from her pod's inner tubing and hissed violently against her sound preceptors.

Whatever commotion lay beyond her dwelling, she could not begin to understand it.

Pressing her hands against the pod's frozen pane, she began to shuffle from her bed and push, hard against the glass. She could feel the cold water against the skin of her enviro-suit, see the condensation drip down her visor and struggled in moving the heavy force that blocked her escape. Eventually, the door nudged, the ice cracked, but then the little slip of mist that escaped her pod ceased once the door had been slammed down, knocking her back onto the pod's vinyl cushions.

A shadow landed against the glass with a shuddering thud, swishing back and forth, grunting in a battle the quarian could barely see. Then the figure slid off to her left, clearing the window from life.

Managing to dislocate her foot from beneath the slab of metal covering the lower quarter of her body, she quickly maneuvered it up to her waist and booted, again and again, against the glass, hoping that if the door did not budge, that those on the outside would at least hear her plea.

" _Bosh'tet_ ," she cursed from her pod, throwing her arms against the door. "Help! Someone... I-I'm trapped. Syrus! Are you there? Someone, help me!"

Ramming the pod with her body, she did not fear for her enviro-suit tearing or for the glass on her helmet to shatter. All she cared about was the escape, for the thought of being trapped for who knew how long had caused her heart to hammer against her chest, close to the point of breaking. Quivering against the pane, her arms weakened and throat swelled in fear. Her breaths soon spluttered from her lips in long, desperate gasps.

 _Out. She needed to get out._

From outside the pod, the twin shadows had returned to their war. They did not seem to even notice her struggle.

Ceasing her movements for the briefest moment, the quarian noticed that the commotion between the two was something in-ordinary, for surely someone would have aided her by now. She rubbed the mist away from the window and angled her helmet to the glass, peering through.

Her vision was blurred but she could make out two humanoid forms locked together, violently shouldering one another for a rifle held between them. Then when the one on the left fell back, the one on the right snatched the weapon from his fingers, launching his skull at the man when he returned to full height. Bone collided with bone, the man's head flew back with a crack and his body fell upon the pod, sagging when red oozed from the wound.

The quarian slowly slumped back in her pod. She quietly pressed a hand to her visor in an attempt to suppress her gasp. A man lay dead above her and his killer was only a few feet away.

In a rumble of scratches and groans, the deceased was thrown from the pod. Shadow had snared the light.

Iyali'Talaas lay silent, observing the maddened fumbling of the stranger in silent fear and curiosity. Once the shadow stepped away, the quarian heard a distinctive click, then the cursed screech of rendered metal. Mist escaped her pod in a violent hiss, inspiring her need to flee, but once the door slid open, she could not do anything but stare at the face awaiting her.

Her background thundered in disturbed electricity, sparking against the stark grey of her pod and merging with the distant flashes of a red emergency bulb. She barely saw her rescuer, or murderer, before she was pulled from the wreckage, tossed to the ground and left with the stranger's arms tight around her waist.

"Kid! Spirits, this isn't how I wanted you to wake up," Syrus gasped, wrapping her left arm around his neck and forcing her numbed body to a stand.

"Syrus?" she whispered, her limbs twitching upward, shaking against the rough contours of his angled face.

He brought his talons over her own hand, aiding her to map the points where his jaw met his neck and where his nose touched his hollowed cheeks, ending at the frame of his shaded specs. Her eyes glazed over; her focus flickered over his face in some sort of uncertainty.

"It's going to be alright now, kid. Just take a breath."

Placing a talon around her waist, the turian steadied his friend before their move, bracing half of her chest over his shoulder and dragging her from the row of still-closed stasis pods. The platform they stood on was one of hundreds in the star-ship's tower, and as they made their way across the platform to the elevator, the quarian could only marvel, and fear, on the amount of them. Staring up at the faintly lit shaft, she could have sworn that it seemed to reach towards infinity.

' _If all those had remained closed, then why had mine been the first to open?'_

The elevator took only a few moments to function, the air-pressure and temperature having stabilized at surface normal before descending from the tower. The unsteady movement caused the quarian and her living crutch to stagger. Once the elevator reached the main level, however, the doors swished open and the two stumbled through, following a narrow descent into a section of corridors that were cleaner than those in the stasis tower. From there their detour ended when meeting a white-plated spherical hub at the heart of the Nexus.

They were upon one of seven tiered decks, all connected by bridges of glass and silver. High above the dome was a sky bluer than any she had seen crowning them in all its glory, and lain on their deck were trading stalls and stores on both the east and west wings, while in between were clusters of vibrantly green potted plants, holographic images and steel benches.

The central hub, part of the main docking bay, would have been a peaceful place to be on if not for the current war caught inside it. Every fractured strain of humanity seemed to be there, writhing from bench to pillar like serpents, angling their assault rifles skyward where from above, the brutish forms of krogan reigned over them, leaping down from the higher platforms in their thick shelled armour, quaking the floor and diving forward, all in order to contain the potential threat.

Despite the commotion Syrus kept pressing forward, forcing the two of them into the shadows while the war raged on. The air reeked of ash and soot, laser fire burned bark from trees and the inner face of the deck was pitted with blast-marks. In fact, nearly every square metre of the interior design on that deck had been scarred, gouged, scorched or buckled by some sort of weapon. Some of the silver colouring had even been beaten black, like a metallic lesion.

Yet despite the damage, the turian and quarian pushed through the crowds and staggered through a pair of reinforced armoured doors. The wiring lay under their stumbling feet, severed and singed, preventing the doorway's full closure. And so, behind them, Initiative guards did kneel defending it, their weapons poised on the war, while the two strangers quickly settled inside, away from what lay beyond them.

The room they found themselves in was an old store room, barely larger than the elevator, dimly lit and yet to be furnished appropriately. Crates had been stacked along the room's end, dust coated the air. Broken terminals and escritoires that were inlaid into the walls were cracked in many places.

Huddled in the corners, their white uniforms bright in the dark, were people of various races - silarian, asari, human, their heads angled away from the front of the room and bodies trembling in fear.

Once safely inside, Syrus took care in placing his friend into a comfortable sitting position, leaning her head back against the wall and pressing his talon to her helmet in ensuring that she was alright. He then pulled his rifle from his shoulder, knelt on one knee and set the length of it along the store window's ledge, locking its laser sights at just the right angle and removing the shattered remnants of glass from the barrel.

The screams of men and women caught Iyali'Talaas' sound processors and she managed to steady her thoughts, pressing her hand gently against Syrus' thigh.

He peaked down from his scope, a black eye trained on her every move. "What's happening, Syrus?"

"Oh, wouldn't you love to know," growled he, seizing his rifle from the ledge and placing it firmly over his knees.

His arms folded over the stock. "I'll tell you what's going on. I was in the midst of having one of the finest dreams I've had the pleasure of ever having, no trouble in the world. There was just me, a long beach, the sun setting in the horizon of Palaven, this lovely asari woman named... well... her name escapes me, but it was paradise, yes? Then your officer over there damn near wakes me up in the middle of a war - no, a revolt, no doubt, between the chain of command and some damn rebels. I had to convince him to cover me while I made a quick dash for the elevator. Wasn't going to leave you asleep with all this going on. That was before one of the damn rebels nearly tore my arm off, by the way."

"Couldn't leave the civilians here unprotected," Officer Hellior called from the other end of the storeroom, his pistol aligned with the sling wrapped over his left arm - his _broken_ arm - and kept it tight to his heavily heaving chest. He peered through the slim space of the doorway, viewing the rebel legions with an uncertainty that had the quarian's gut churn with unease.

Syrus tsked. "Sure. Now, no offense officer but by the way I've seen you shoot, I'm surprised you were still standing by the time I came back."

"Considering that's coming from a turian who couldn't run straight to save his ass, I doubt you have much right to insult me, soldier. Pardon the language, miss."

Iyali'Talaas merely shook her head. "Are you sure this is a war? How did this happen?"

"It isn't a war, miss," stated the officer, falling back upon the wall with sweat beading down his forehead. He seemed different to what Iyali'Talaas had once seen.

His strong face was deeply lined, especially around his eyes, where they were thicker than the lines grained on an old oak tree. There were clefts on either sides of his nose, his upper eyelids sagged, but still there was a shine to the orbs beneath, appearing centuries-wise but not entirely wary.

It was with curiosity and woe that she realised that he looked older than when they had first fallen asleep... months older. They should have looked the same.

Gunfire sounded in the distance, pulling her from her reverie, but he did not even wince. "As far as I know, something happened to the ship. Supposedly some stasis pods were lost in a collision and the rebels here are trying to take over the Nexus with an uprising. Cursed fools. Hell, these idiots really don't know what they're doing, fighting us like this. It'll only end with everyone dead, then what a wasted trip this will have been."

"And no one has tried to talk them out of this?" she asked.

Syrus shrugged, bracing his rifle along the ledge and eying the movements of a rebel not far down his line of sight. "Beats me, kid, but chances are we're going to have to fight our way through this mess."

Sighing under her visor, Iyali'Talaas attempted to stand, using the window ledge for support. "Then, we fight them then."

Syrus grinned. "That's my girl. Oh, and don't forget this." Bending down to catch the back of his boot, the turian pulled from the leather confines a very familiar pistol that had the quarian smiling in delight.

She snatched the pistol with surprising speed, leaving the turian curling and uncurling his claws. She carefully brought the pistol up to her helmet and tilted it to inspect its condition.

Her weapon, marked VI Equalizer, was a rusty pistol, with scratch marks layering the outer casing, a dent around the rear sight and a few added notches over the barrel. Despite its age, it was just how she remembered it: near feather-light when weighed along the flat of her hand, the grip smooth yet tractable; the scope small but simple to view through with a tiny 'x' marking the lens's centre, and the enhanced silencer was perfect when trouble arose, especially when in need to make a clean getaway.

Syrus' contact had done well crafting it for her, or perhaps the better word was stealing it for her, but no matter the morality of how it was obtained, nor how trying the pistol could be at times regarding its faults, she never left home without it.

Yet, before her boarding onto the Nexus all those years ago, her pistol had been confiscated by the Initiative. Only security personnel could maintain their weapons for the majority of the journey and a contract had to be signed stating that no weapon, while aboard the Initiative's property, could be used without strict permission.

Her heart had wept at the loss of it, fearing she would never see it again. Regarding her friend, white eyes contrasting the shadows of her visor, gratitude resonating from her in waves, a question tugged at the tip of her tongue, but she wasn't quite sure how to say it.

Syrus merely softened his gaze, patting the butt of his own rifle in pride. "The officer here was kind enough to take me to the weapon's cache down in the armory by security. Managed to find our weapons, " he winked, "just in case."

"Just like another day on Omega then," she said, directing her gaze over to the growing gunfire. Smoothing her hand along the barrel, electricity burning in its core, she wrapped both hands around her VI Equalizer's grip and aimed down the sight.

Movement caught her eyes behind one of the thicker trees. She adjusted her pistol's angle, aiming it at the distant iron pauldron sticking out from the plant. The rebel's arm poked just a little further out and she took the shot.

Wailing and launching himself from cover, clutching his seeping arm, the rebel raised his rifle up and another shot rounded through the docking bay. The rebel's chest jolted at the fired laser bolt, smoke rising from the leather. His knees buckled and Syrus removed his claw from the trigger.

"Just like old times," the turian chuckled, pinning his scope on another of the rebellion. "And here I thought I was going to have trouble finding things to do in Andromeda."

"Haven't you learned anything, Horaion? Nothing is ever boring when we are around."

"Hah, you've got that right. Seems fate is incredibly pissed at us for this one, though."

Beyond the store, the war continued without hinder. The rebels fired at their enemies with small-grade laser fire - red rays striking the chamber, peppering the central hub with many dented sheets of metal. The krogan, however, the large reptilian bipeds that they were, charged head on through the land between them, taking on the bullets as if nothing worse than small streaks of hailstone. Their beady eyes and sharp-edged jaws chanted in bloodthirsty song upon the fight.

Every rebel that managed to graze the squishy neck under-fat of a krogan, causing the great hulks of chaos to tumble and gargle in pooling blood, were inflicted with double the casualties on their side, falling prey to the great armoured beasts. Men were flung from hiding, a few had fingers crushed by a sturdy iron boot, some were rammed into the walls and other, unlucky few, were thrown from the deck's platform all together. The only hint of them left was the splattered form of a once-intact body several stories below.

It was no war: it was a slaughter. And the rebels did not give up the fight.

Noticing the added weapon fire, the rebellion turned onto the small storeroom, firing the inhabitants in leaded shrapnel. Syrus and Iyali'Talaas dropped from the ledge, throwing their hands against their heads.

"There's no way we're going to help the krogan if we can't shoot anything!" Syrus yelled, slipping his rifle's point into the crack in the doorway. "Iya, think you can use that power of yours?"

"I can try," she said, throwing her pistol to the ground and folding her legs in.

Weak and light-headed, the young quarian struggled to concentrate. Every cell in her fragile body threatened to fight back, but training her mind on her hands, she forced her inner strength to resonate through. She felt the long year stasis slowly recede, replaced by a power gradually returning to her aching body, filling her with life.

It began to rifle through her veins and tighten around the very essence of her life core, merging her body with the ancient ability of mass effect manipulation known as biotics. Her power branched from her chest, cascading from her shoulders to her fingertips, causing her whole frame to illuminate in a very bright shade of golden hue.

The quarian let out a gentle breath and felt her biotic essence sweep into a high-powered sphere that hovered just above her palms, as naturally pliable to her command as breathing.

Her hands rose above her, her thoughts lingered on the doorway and of the fight beyond it. The biotic field surged outward, ending just in front of the storeroom where her power trebled in size, shielding her half of the deck in a brilliant reflective semi-sphere.

Syrus took his chance, barging the broken doors open wide and aiming his scope at any figure that dared cross his path. Shot after shot, rebels fell, clutching bloodied arms, knees or chests. Any that tried to retaliate did not get past the quarian's shield. Instead, the bullet-fire rebounded from it in many sounding pings, often puncturing the rebels anew where their armour did not fully cover their bodies.

Aided by the krogan, many of the rebels soon turned to flee, climbing down from supports to the lower decks and heading towards the shuttle ports. Those that stayed continued to hammer the shield, and all seemed well... until it began to weaken, flicker, fade.

Iyali'Talaas' hands fell numb. Strength in her body slowly waned and her mind grew hazy, unfocused. Her eyes drifted, her semi-conscious thought lost all orientation and her biotics shimmered along her gloved hands. The quarian's vision swam upon the sight of the golden spirals and tiny sunlit flies it seemed to create, until the power faded into her suit and her shield collapsed.

Looking up from his scope, no longer sensing the buzzing field around him, Syrus blinked upon realising that the rippling currents of the biotic shield had dissipated, leaving only a golden cocktail of ionised air. The few remaining rebels, who's hands were raised in surrender, soon noticed the lack of firing on his part and rose from their hiding places.

Syrus stared at them, flinching at the locking sound of rifles.

"Oh. Shit."

The turian twirled, sprinting back in uneven lines towards the storeroom as if being chased by a raunchy varren in heat; bullets bouncing at his feet. Diving inside, Officer Hellior and two civilians rammed the doors, forcing them left to right until only a small line of light pierced the eerie darkness. The officer, wincing at the jolt of pain up his arm, slid down to the floor and wiped the gleaming sweat from his brow.

The turian fell to his knees then landed back-first onto the ground, arms lazily draped over his carapace. For a moment he just stared at the small line of light striking the ceiling's middle, staring at a fly hovering to and from it. Then, his maw broke out in a sharp curve of razor teeth and his choked cackle struck those unawares with a sharp skewer of icy chills. "That! That is what I call a rush."

Peeking up from beneath her helmet, just managing to steady her sight, the young quarian quietly shook her head and dragged herself over to the battle-crazed turian, stifling a small yelp at the aching in her waist. "I worry for you sometimes, Horaion," she said, softly patting his shoulder. Her arms came to rest tightly around her side, the pain throbbing but not overly so. "Sorry for not being able to keep the shield up."

Syrus caught her hand with one claw and patted her thigh with the other. "Next time, give me a little bit of a hint, yeah? I don't look half as good with bullet holes in me."

The added laser fire beyond their haven sent the scent of smoke through the venting system. The hot smell of ash made those inside the chamber ready to hurl.

Officer Hellior patched the seeping wound in his leg with the torn arm-piece from his uniform, while a civilian aided in tying the material in a steady knot. Iyali'Talaas knew the officer was in no good condition, as she herself was not, but she could see by the added vapour on his brow, to the throbbing vein in the gap of his jaw that he was unable to relax. It could have meant deeper trauma, perhaps psychological, added with the beginnings of a fever.

He was not well. He needed a medic.

It was sometime before anyone noticed that the chamber had been silent for a while, with only the distant hum of a valve stabilising their thoughts. Searching around the chamber, tapping the sides of her helmet, checking her processors, the quarian realised that there was in fact no bombardment, no thrilling scream or eager thud of battered bones to be heard. There was just the valve, the gentle thrum of vacuumed air ventilation and the bare whisper of bated breaths.

From the outside, a noise resonated through the walls: the thud of an unforgiving weight against tiled flooring, perhaps denting the glossy finish. The doorway's single line of light disappeared and the doors were rammed with two clamorous beats.

Syrus sat up, yanking his rifle from the ground and locking it head on the doorway. Iyali'Talaas quietly took hers from her side, leaning her pistol's barrel over her friend's shoulder, perfectly balanced over his black armour plating.

"Who is out there?" she asked, her voice unwavering.

Another harsh bash was her answer, causing one door to hang slightly ajar from its mooring.

"No human could make that kind of dent," muttered Syrus, taking his eye briefly away from his scope.

Officer Hellior, feeling the ponderous vibrations through the wall, could only nod. "Damn right we can't. Not unless he's part krogan-"

"-Or is a krogan."

The two exchanged curious glances before a final decision was made. The truth of the matter was, no one wanted to keep a krogan waiting, not after a battle that had their blood pumping through their veins and adrenaline feeding their excessive muscle mass.

With aid from Syrus and a few of the wary scientists, the storeroom doors were pried open. On the outside, there was in fact a krogan standing tall, but he seemed different to the krogan Iyali'Talaas had seen in the past. Its eyes were red-roar and beady, held sunken in tangerine dimpled flesh and below a solid bone brow, all patched into the hood of a hefty hulled integument.

If she had to guess what mood the creature was in by the wry angle of his massive jaw, she would have believed it to be humored upon the sight of them.

"Well now, look who's crammed in the meat locker," chortled the krogan, swinging his colossal head and rubbing the protruded belly fat beneath his chromium shell armour, thick fingers niggling into the iron strap keeping the dented segments together, just barely. "Heh heh heh. You lot can move on out now, my people 'ere have saved you from a disappointing death. No glory to be had dying at the hands of these welps."

Officer Hellior, more worse for ware, dared to peer out from beyond the krogan to the decks above, searching for any sign of life that did not belong to the current company. The decks had changed little in the hour they had waited with only a few added dents fo the pillars, an iron taste to the air and the scattering remains of the rebellion, or what was left of it.

The krogan looked from one body to another and shrugged. "Well, they're all dead," he said, kicking the remains of a severely squished head. "No coming back after that one."

The human calmly walked out, attention flickering between the quiet surroundings and the krogan himself, while clutching his injured arm and bending slightly downward.

The krogan raised his ceratorhine head and surveyed the higher ranking officer carefully, then smiled the merest hint of a smile that had the officer's frown sour beneath his wiry stubble. "Hellior."

"Krax," he replied, nodding. Behind the human, the still-frightened scientists quietly began to leave the safety of the storeroom, holding onto one another and heading towards the larger group of krogan over by the west wing.

Iyali'Talaas observed their leave quietly, her left arm steadily hooked over Syrus' long neck. Her very body felt like stiffening dead weight. Her suit's mechanics barely kept her upright but did the best it could.

Syrus lowered the exhausted quarian onto one of the still-intact benches, though slightly skewed, as the bolts were near sheared off from the onslaught. She laid back upon the bench, her sigh but a whisper in tiredness. She waited for a moment, eyes closed and mind clear of all thoughts before waking and inspecting the skin of her enviro-suit, checking beneath the velvet shawls and silken sashes for any dents or tears.

Her people were the only people to wear their suits in any environment, for without them, they would surely perish. She blamed her heritage. Her heritage blamed the artificial intelligence they had created. The AI eventually betrayed them and there were conflicting reports on which side drew blood first. But either way, it led to the eventual downfall of her kind, causing their immune systems to weaken to the point of depending solely on the enviro-suits to survive. It was not a fair life, but she knew that unless the previous six hundred years of stasis had changed her, that there was no leaving her enviro-suit until her death.

And so she guided her hands over every part of her, feeling the soft metal and crinkled fabric, before ceasing upon a tear. She studied the wound in the crevices of her enviro-suit, appearing to those around her outwardly as a bored acolyte studying the dullest of scriptures. Her facade was one hastily perfected over the years, adapted and benefited by the helmet she wore, hiding any sense of humanism from her being.

To them, she seemed perfectly fine, but behind her visor and the violet cleansing mist shielding her face from the world, her full lips trembled. The following months were going to be tough for her, she knew, obscurely covering the incision with her hand.

She would not patch the wound.

She would allow the bacteria of the Nexus to inhabit her, infect her, allow the wound to fester and heal. Maybe, perhaps maybe, with the aid of her plan, she would live through the process with those around her unawares.

Looking over the settled deceased with a strange form of mild contentment, Syrus Horaion carefully knelt by each one and scanned their waists for any hint of indentation, searching for anything that could be held within their clothes.

He peered over his shoulder, only to find that the krogan commander and human officer were enthralled in circling conversation.

His nimble claws eagerly delved into the blood-coated fabric of the body and snatched any ammunition fastened into jacket pockets or discarded duffle bags, collecting and hiding them in the pouches beneath his armour. The quarian caught the sight of him doing so and gave him a knowing tilt of her head.

 _Remember to share your finds when we're alone._

The turian merely gave a quick flick with his mandibles before rising to full height. He caught a glimpse upon standing and whistled at the bright sky on the horizon. "Well now, look what we have here," he said, sauntering up to the sunlit sky, an imitation the dome had provided for its inhabitants through many minuscule screens of colour, all blending into a moving image that took the turian's breath away.

Hoisting his rifle over one shoulder, plodding through the drying puddles of blood, he raked an arm over the deck's balustrade and gave out a dramatic sigh. "I believe this might be my new favourite spot on the Nexus. The smell of death over there, beautiful floor colouring over here and... my, look at that view. I could get used to this."

"And to think," he said, twirling round, bracing his shoulders back and raising his arms high, "I, Syrus Horaion, lone vigilante, has saved all the fearful souls on this deck. I do believe I deserve a promotion if, you know, I had a job here."

Coughing from her seat, Syrus turned to face his quarian friend with little short of a smile on his face. "With help, of course."

"Get back over here before your ego floats out the air-lock," she said, patting the empty space beside her.

The turian bowed, setting his rifle down along the floor and perching himself lazily across her bench. He spread his arms out and flicked his head back.

"So, you were the ones shooting from that little cave of yours, huh?" asked Krax, striding over to the two species with a fiery glint in his eye. "Got to admit, you didn't do so bad. Picked the weak ones off while the other krogan and I fought the real fighters. Was nice of ya."

Officer Hellior settled himself on a neighbouring bench. He drew himself forward with an arm braced over one knee. "Couldn't have done it without them, Krax. They helped defend the civilians. It's worthy of something."

"Aye," said Syrus, unmoving from his position, "couldn't let you krogan have all the fun now."

"And it seems that you're in our debt then, do you not think?" Iyali'Talaas queried, gently crossing her arms.

The officer frowned. "Beg your pardon, miss?"

She merely shrugged. "You were going to leave me frozen, weren't you? That was until Syrus thawed me out and we joined in saving your crew. I believe we deserve something for the trouble."

"True," added Syrus, drawing himself up and scratching one of the thick black crests attached to his neck. "We did save your asses from what would have been a very disappointing way to go."

Iyali'Talaas could feel slight opposition radiate from the krogan who for that moment remained quiet, studying them, his opposition perhaps mixed with a strangely warped sense of respect, or impressiveness. She never did do well when speaking to a member of an order higher in rank than herself, but with Krax, she didn't mind so much. Perhaps it was because he was krogan, or too fat to catch her if she ran.

Krax growled. "You've got some balls daring to make a request to a krogan. What makes you so sure that I won't just add your bodies to the ones on this deck and see what comes of it?"

"He's joking-" amended Officer Hellior quickly, one hand out. "He's joking, miss. No need to grab your gun there. Enough blood has been spilled today." He put his outstretched hand to his knee and tapped twice. "Still, they are in part right. They do deserve some type of reward."

Krax shook his head. "No reward."

A pang of insurgency flared inside of the young quarian. Her fingers twitched against her suit, daring to challenge the higher power.

Krax's small red eyes dared her to say something more. And she did. "If not a reward, then maybe a few requests? To make our lives more livable on the Nexus."

Krax and Officer Hellior exchanged looks before leaning in. "We're listening."

Behind the violet mist of her visor, the quarian smugly smirked, having played the officers right into her little trap.

The first thing she requested was private lodging that, ultimately, led to a less than quaint-sized room overlooking a small part of the Nexus' docking bay. The chamber was supposed to be an individual one, but that had been changed upon entering it. Syrus, much to her disappointment, had to accommodate her as rooms, it seemed, on a near moon-sized star-ship, were scarce.

The second thing she requested was a shuttle to venture out and explore new worlds. That also did not end well in her favour as shuttles, it turned out, were also scarce and in need of repair. In fact, any off-world assignments were temporarily restricted with limited resources, due to the three-month long mutiny of the Nexus crew, and research into the worlds populating the Heleus cluster had been fruitless. In fact, they had not even begun.

The third and final thing she requested was to keep her weapon, holding it dear to her heart when proposing the request. That, at least, had been acknowledged and allowed, but only if the pistol and her friend's rifle stayed assigned to her quarters, only to be used when permitted on missions. She often looked back upon accepting the terms, wondering if it was truly worth it.

Her life aboard the Nexus may not have been one she expected, but it was one she had prepared for. And she would not go back to her previous life for anything.


	3. To the Stars For Haven

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Three: To the Stars For Haven

 _Three months later..._

"Are we clear?" Iyali'Talaas voiced into her necklace, pausing at the entrance to the shuttle bay. For the moment she regretted the decision of setting their plan into motion so close to dawn. In an hour the remaining Nexus crew would be awake, the security would duplicate, the number of on-lookers would rise to the point of choking. More prying eyes, though, was the least of her concerns.

"As clear as nitrogen in a tank, kid," Syrus responded, static cracking her comms link until his voice returned a moment later, a curse following suit. "Targets are still in the vicinity. Just need them to move just a little more west... and... roger that, targets are on the move. Let's get the job done."

"Be careful, Horaion. We only have one shot at this or the whole of the Nexus will be upon us."

"Have I ever given you cause to doubt me, the pinnacle of turian greatness that I am?"

She smiled, folding the receiver into the small trinket and letting it slip through her two fingers. Taking shelter behind a tall, elder sycamore, its crossing arms shading the far end corner of the docking bay, the quarian quietly observed the main entranceway from its body, her focus being specifically on the one guard preventing her access through it.

She had watched his router for the past week, calculated the times in which he would leave his post and when another would take his place. But that was supposed to be an hour ago and the guard still remained stood at his post, unmoving. She had to wonder what caused such a change.

On the other side of the star-ship, held in another sector and gradually sauntering up a long stairway was Horaion, monitoring every wandering soul in white that passed him by carefully, ensuring that none could jeopardize his mission.

The Operations wing was grand in scale, nearly a quarter of the size of the entire docking bay with segments for imprisonment and security on the left, monitoring and surveillance on the right and a temporary science division on the far end of the chamber. Operations militia offices were on the lower level and colonial affairs were held on the bridge of the starship, both connected by a set of wide stairways rounding into an arch at the top.

Rounding the stairway to another set, watching the glass balustrade shadow his movements, the turian paused upon reaching the pinnacle, spying the great information wall that overlooked the entirety of the deck. The wall was one great screen of images, fading from one to another in perfect synchronisation.

He viewed the splendorous highlights of each planet that artists of the past had recreated for his benefit. The glassy glaciers of Habitat Six, the mountainous dunes of Habitat Two, the deep reservoirs of Habitat Four and the underground chasms of Habitat One, ending in the final image of Habitat Three, a thrilling sight of vast oceanic rivers, towering meadowed groves and flourishing wildlife, presenting the perfected representation of a forested paradise. All of those enthrilling celestial bodies, all presently in an elliptical orbit round a star, were what should have been habitable in the Heleus Cluster. Only a few recon teams, according to the Nexus reports, had been sent to scout out the local terrain. Only a few made it back with a description belittling what the turian currently saw.

"Soon enough it won't be just a picture," he sighed, returning his attention to the observational terminal opposite the screen, left strangely unattended. Of course, he wasn't going to complain about his stroke of perfectly-timed fortune.

Checking to ensure that there were no onlookers, he sat down in the nearest chair and tucked himself into the side, adjusting the seat's height before bending over the terminal. The terminal in its many symbols of blue and gold displayed the most recent facts about each of the presented planets and their plotted trajectories. Swishing a claw over his left wrist, powering his omni-tool, the turian scanned the terminal's data as quickly as he could, rapidly downloading and channeling the information into his own storage device. Then, once completed, the omni-tool fading into his skin-plates, the turian swiftly reset the terminal and left the operations deck, returning to the elevator a level below it and pressing a talon to his ear-piece.

"Kid, I'm sending you the coordinates now. Will meet you at the rendezvous point. Good luck."

Acknowledging the response, Iyali'Talaas bent down and slipped her hands into the rooted crevice held beneath the sycamore, pulling from the confines of bark and earth two relatively medium sized duffle bags, the insides clanking when hoisted over both of her shoulders. Ensuring that they were secure, she parted ways from the sycamore, walking up to the docking bay's main entranceway and to the guard who eyed her actions with more suspicion than care.

Upon first glance he seemed to be relatively young for a human, perhaps a cadet before the uprising, wearing black-padded military guards, orderly held under a white-leather jacket with a holstered pistol under his left arm.

"Hold," said he, raising a free hand up and stepping away from the control terminal. "What's your purpose here, quarian?"

"I've been told to unload some specialised equipment into one of the shuttles."

She reached into her side satchel and pulled from it a tablet. "Here's the manifest."

He took the offered device and scanned the information stored on its surface with little other than the tilt of his head.

He looked up, suspicion etched into every wrinkle. "This?" he asked, waving it from side to side. "Who authorised this?"

She shrugged, shuffling the duffle bags from one shoulder to the other, trying to rebalance the weight. "I don't care who gives me the order, I just do my job."

The guard stepped forward, returning the tablet to her with a little too much force. "I do. Orders have been changed regarding supplies since the incident a few nights back. Missing ammunition, food... water..." Leaning back against his post, he gave a solemn nod. "So, tell me. Who gave you the order?"

"It says on the manifest who gave the order."

"Maybe, but until you give me a name that supasses security clearance, I'm afraid I can't let you past this point."

The quarian turned away from him, instantly kicking the tiled floor with her heels. Pressing two fingers along her helmet's higher rim, she searched the expanse of decking for any hint onto her next trajectory, for any clue of a ladder or shaft that could aid in her way to the lower levels.

The corridors were still, quiet. Hardly anyone came into sight except for the occasional bystander, ordered to come down and mend any broken circuitry or faulty wiring. That had become more and more common since the uprising.

Truthfully, the Nexus' brilliance had dwindled to little more than a drifting wreck in an atmosphere of condensed floating vapour. Many of the sectors had been closed: the cultural centre, hydroponic gardens, the medical wing. The bay's power alone was barely sufficient, the great dome sky but a pale imitation of what it had once been when the quarian first awoke - a shade of pale powder instead of celeste or cyan, while the footage of flying birds and altocumulus cloud cover were near nonexistent. There was only enough light from the artificial sun for people to see where they were going, but beyond that, there was little purpose to it.

Perhaps the reason for its still functionality was to be a source of hope to the few remaining colonists, or perhaps it was part of the essential systems, unable to be shut down. Still, the main deck was in no better condition: crates stacked in towers along the corners, benches and other equipment had remained shrouded in great sheets of oilcloth, dust pitting the walkways. Anything could lurk within the shadows. It was no wonder missing crewmen reports were increasing by number daily.

The only truly fully functional part of the bay was the shimmering figure of the asari VI, Avina, leisurely stood in the would-have-been populated areas of the deck, one hand over her hip and a welcoming smile on her pale, blue face.

Iyali'Talaas always had a strangely positive outlook over artificial intelligence, but that one virtual intelligence always left her feeling odd after her questioning, like she was always being watched, or recorded, by her, and that there was more to that VI than outer appearances.

Further down the stretch of main walkway, supported by lines of grey-glass banisters and dusty steel benches, a familiar figure appeared from distant shifting elevator doors, the bronze starburst crest upon the higher half of his armour plating hitting her like a mountain fire, the signal sending all her limbs into the offensive and mind on the current objective.

Twisting back on her heel, the quarian stared over the guard's left shoulder and threw her hand out. "Keelah- behind you!"

Following her hand, pistol out, the guard twisted back, only to find a locked door and white-washed wall. Bewildered, he raised his head over the firearm, blinking at the lack of threat.

Before he could question her on the subject, however, Iyali'Talaas whipped back her velvet sash and drew from the holster strapped along her outer thigh her Equalizer, twirling the trigger guard around her finger and grasping the barrel tight in her palm. In one swift arcing motion she threw her arm out, the gun's grip clattering against the guard's bristly jaw. At the thundering force he slumped to the ground, knocked out cold.

"Apologies," she whispered, dropping her left duffle bag and placing her pistol along the security console. "Nothing personal."

She quickly touched the console's main screen, causing it to light up with life. The keyboard displayed many translucent three-dimensional symbols and clocks, while the main control was a hand-shaped scanner highlighted in a pale red line.

Kneeling on the floor and grasping the guard's chest, she hauled him up over the counter and pressed his hand onto the scanner. White lines slipped to and from the stable hand, reading its life signs and biometric print, then the console emitted a high-pitched chime and the door behind swished open, revealing a long and very dark corridor.

She allowed the guard to drop to the floor, stepping over him to recollect her luggage. "Many thanks, human."

It was not long before Syrus caught up to the lone quarian, pausing to observe the unconscious guard with a glint of both praise and disappointment in his gaze. "You couldn't have waited for me, could you?"

Pressing the remaining duffle bag into her friend's chest, knocking him slightly back, Iyali'Talaas gestured with a hand to the shuttle-bay's now fully functional door and raised her free shoulder. "He wouldn't let me through."

Syrus threw the bag over a shoulder and tightened the strap. He winced under the weight. "Spirits, kid, this is heavy. What have you packed in this?"

"The necessities. Vacuum-packed food sachets, bottled water, Initiative clothing, repair kits, ammunition, omni-gel, energy cells, oh, and a few packs of medicine I managed to scavenge from medical storage."

"So you've basically just stole a third of the Nexus supply cache?"

She suddenly stopped just ahead of the entranceway. She stared at the floor, unable to quite look back. "They'll be fine. We need it more than they do."

"Hey, I'm not complaining. It's us or them, right?"

A grim nod. "Afraid so. Come on, our future awaits."

Scouring the lower parts of the shuttle bay, feeling the evening wind beckon them onto a northerly course, or perhaps it was the lower ventilation fans shifting the air upon their passing, the two swiftly glided down the rows upon rows of platforms, their steps vibrating the metal and clanking upon each hurtled corner. The narrow flights seemed to never end, each row spreading from its origin outward in two to three long branches. Yet still they paced themselves ever onward, until they were certain that security could not find them.

Finally, after a little more searching, they had found their treasure. The vessels of the Initiative varied in width, dimension and size, some being no better than a derelict cruiser in condition, cracked around the wings and the paint smudged beyond compare. Others were the standard model shuttle - small, angular dagger of a vessel, merely twelve metres in length holding two windows on either side above the wings and a long, tinted frontal pane, twisted at an odd angle along the vessel's arrow-point tip. Tinted ivory to the core, lines scraped along the body, they may have been smaller compared to the other cousins of the Nexus; Arks, survey tempest ships and so forth, but the shuttles were stealthy, quiet and built to last long journeys. They were perfect, really, for a small crew such as theirs. They only needed to pick the perfect one.

Searching through the many circular platforms holding each vessel parallel to the other, she manually checked the outer sides of each one, pin-pointing any dents in their frame, any scratches upon the pane and ensured that the hulls were at a sturdy angle and that the exhausts upon the rears had ash-marks upon them, providing evidence that they had been used at least once before and survived space-flight.

After passing five off as no-goes, she eventually found a stable shuttle that seemed the best condition out of the lot. The only difference on it was the bright violet seal across its main fin, distinguishing it from the other, rather planer looking shuttles.

"This is the one, Syrus," Iyali'Talaas said, pressing her hand along the shuttle's outer door. "The Messenger Mark II."

Syrus paced around the shuttle, arms braced behind his back, scrutinising it up and down before returning to her side, a wry line forming over his mawl. "Awful small for a ship, don't you think?"

"Small is safe. We wouldn't want to draw attention to ourselves in a new galaxy. We're strangers, remember? Alien to some, perhaps enemies to others. We need to be careful with how we approach things."

Passing her remaining duffle bag to the turian, Iyali'Talaas glided her hands along the shuttle door, lowering herself to her knees where she found a hatch just under it. Flipping the panel open, she unclipped her necklace and attached it to the circuitry. At the centre of the necklace was a type of power core, an orb of ruby glass that kept the trinket pulsing over the quarian's enviro-suit. Once connected to the shuttle, however, the orb's shine disappeared and the necklace turned cold. Something inside the shuttle clicked.

All at once, the Messenger Mark II sprang to life.

The door automatically slid open. The engine came to life and the shuttle gradually began to hover. Iyali'Talaas smiled at seeing her new ship take flight, swiping the necklace from its port and re-attaching it around her neck by the clasp.

Stepping inside, she marvelled at the interior design of it all. "See?" she said to the turian, passing the cock-pit altogether and seating herself into the pilot's chair. The flaps of her sash hung down on either side, long and flowing like the ceremonial dress of a queen. Back straight, posture regal, white eyes sparkling within the mist of her visor and fingers eagerly testing the console for life. In her element, she truly was royalty. "This... this is special."

The Messenger Mark II was designed to be light. It was designed to be fast. For the quarian, it was perfect.

Without fare warning the platforms were hammered by what felt to be a stampede of scurrying boots, clammering down the stairways from all directions. Voices echoed along the bay, emphatic and vehement in tone.

Syrus peeked from beyond the entranceway, aiming his rifle up and looking through the scope. Forms passed to and fro in a hurry. There was no mistaking who they were.

"Spirits," said Horaion, pulling the lever above the door and forcing it to a sudden close. "Bastards were quicker than I thought. Better get us moving, kid, or we're done for."

Sensing a renewed vigour take her body, the quarian shifted in her seat and began typing controls into the shuttle's main terminal, sailing in coded commands. Just as she had managed to gain a foothold into the shuttle's navigation system, something truly unexpected appeared.

Along the back of the terminal, a spherical orb resolved into existence, rendered with just enough artificial flicker and crystalline grace to affirm that it was a projection, not a physical presence. A voice, a multi tonal, sonorous thrum, emitted through the array of speakers, vibrating through the metal alloys and intricate circuitry, truly forming one with the vessel.

"Creator Talaas," the orb had said, his very wording a pleasing hum to the quarian's operational sound processors.

At an instant, her fingers stilled along the console, long ears twitching inside her suit, unsure that she had heard the voice correctly. But then she saw the orb of holographic imagery, sensed that it was not part of the shuttle's mainframe and quietly put a hand over her heart. "M... Messenger?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

She silenced a quivering breath. Shaking her head, she closed her fingers around her dormant necklace and shuddered. "Keelah... It's good to hear your voice again, old friend."

"Affirmative, Creator Talaas," the AI responded, the orb of light seeming to shine upon the response.

Syrus stared at the AI's position as if a flicker of a memory, there, yes, but not entirely real. "My, my, never thought I'd hear you again."

The last they had heard from their AI was during the crash of their first starship, the Messenger Mark I. Iyali'Talaas could remember the ship's devastation clearly, the smoke rising into the mountain peaks, the shrapnel imbedded into the earth and fires that spread along the grass, incinerating all it touched. And her ship, a wreck of scattered parts and dented hull, something that could never be brought back to life. With its demise her truly only other friend, Messenger, had been taken with it, the shard in its inner core being the only surviving piece.

Her necklace. Her only memory.

The impending rush of movement on the outside parted Syrus from his reverie. "Kid," he said, drawing himself into the shuttle's passenger seat and strapping the belts over his person. "We've got to go. Nexus are closing in on us."

"Roger that." She adjusted her own belts, her fingers a flash in dialing instructions into the system's mainframe. "Messenger, can you fly us out of here?"

"Affirmative."

The Messenger Mark II shuddered in response, knocking the quarian back into her seat. A steady hum of an energising power core sounded through the inner shell of the vessel. Blue light blinked under the body and the four under-thrusters engaged with the main system, parting the shuttle from the platform.

The deck gradually disappeared, replaced by a falling sky and artificial sunlight.

Glancing out the side window, Syrus laughed at the many gawking faces of the Nexus crew waving their hands as if that would in some way bring the shuttle back to port.

The quarian also saw those beneath them, curling her fingers into the armrest, stifling the enticing urge to wave back. Her thoughts lingered on them a while, feelings of doubt and unsureness rising within. But then the irregular pattern of unstabilized gravity caused the sudden release of suspense and tension from her chest, the feeling near-weightless, comforting even.

The view grew blue around them, a bright sun gleaming off the shuttle's wings. And then the rear engines tuned in sync, propelling the vessel from the docking bay. Iyali'Talaas tightened her grip around the armrest, half-expecting the ship to swerve at any moment. But it was the opposite.

Passing the steel gates in a flare of ivory plume, the Messenger Mark II drew away from the Nexus, accelerating out into unfamiliar stars.

Erratic voices from the comms turned to bickering static, quickly shut off by the press of a button. The shuttle fell eerily still inside, silent, bated breaths held and all focus attuned to the vacuum surrounding them in its embrace. It had been so long since they had been on their own, left to the mercy and willful fate of the divines.

Far and beyond there was black and there was stardust and there were distant planets and hurtling comets, new constellations begging to be discovered. The whole of the universe illuminated, twinkled like a beacon - lights promising hope, promising comfort, promising something worthy to follow and see. She and Syrus were travellers in a foreign land that begged for exploration, and she would be one of the first to take up its honored call.

Iyali'Talaas had not realised that her hand had pressed up against the windscreen until she drew it back, placing it flatly across her heart, then firming it to a fist.

They were home.

She heard a distant snap, a groan and then the creak of lifted weight from a seat behind her.

Treading softly up to the bridge, black eyes a dance in wonder and jaw parted wide, Syrus Horaion watched the sight before him as if he was twenty-seven years younger, about to step into uncharted space for the very first time.

Curling his claw around the notch in her seat, grinning to the cheekbones, he knelt down to her height and pointed out the window. "So kid, where are we heading to?"

"Still have that data from the Operations sector?"

Syrus nodded, typing commands into his omni-tool and throwing his arm back. The device soon projected across the cockpit. Around them, the chamber lit up in a dazzling display of virtual celestial charts, three-dimensional solar systems and lined planets dotting the ivory walls and floor.

Iyali'Talaas rose from her seat, passed into the centre of the shuttle. Syrus watched her closely, perching his rump over the cockpit's step and dragging his knees up to his chest.

"Remember the mutiny a few months back?" she asked, swivelling beneath the solar systems. "I've read reports about the rebels actually managing to find a steady eco-system for themselves. They're alive. They're living."

"And a planet of ruffians and scoundrels just happened to sound like home to you?" he quipped.

She looked back to her friend, gauntleted hands curling daintily along her wide hips, all her weight shifting on one leg. "Perfectly so. We lived on Omega for a long time. Don't see how this new set of stowaways, or even pirates can be any different. We're similar to them in many ways. We know how they think, how to lie low. Once we resupply, we can turn our sights to exploration without any law to end our searches."

"Then what world are we flying to, airpilot of Messenger?"

Taking her time, she scanned the foreign-looking holograms in relevant detail, from the destination of the Nexus, shown as a vibrant red dot, to the solar systems surrounding them. She observed the outer clusters, farther and less illuminated on the map, held in shadow with only partial clarity.

"Here," she said, pointing out to a rust-coppered world, held in the northern edge of the shuttle. There were pockets of mossy lake parting the continents and islands, but to the quarian, it seemed the most habitable world compared to the others. "This is to be our first destination."

"And what is this place called?"

She fell silent a moment, captivated by the sight of the planet and of the possibilities ticking through her mind like clockwork.

There would be trouble, there would be threats and there would be violence. No place uncharted could promise neither of those. But where there was danger there was strength, there was mystery and there was adventure. They had charted a course to the stars, crossed dark space for the thrill of a new beginning. There was no going back.

Feeling her skin pulse, her heart lighten, Iyali'Talaas plucked the planet from the map and held it in between cupped hands. It rotated on an axis, absorbing the dullness of her gloves but never once leaving her touch, relying on her solely, as if she was the only stability it had between a plundering demise and a balanced stand.

"Set a course, Messenger. We're travelling to Kadara."


	4. Adrift In Space

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Four: Adrift In Space

It had been many days aboard the Messenger Mark II before any hint of their intended trajectory surfaced in the Heleus Cluster. During that seemingly endless time the young quarian found emotional solace upon observing the cosmos, its design a distant array of palladium dust across a solid veil of black galaxy, the Messenger and herself but a vessel caught in its wonder, drifting in an infinite current of Andromeda.

The name itself felt so unreal to her and yet - she had made it, despite all the odds. Finally, after a six hundred year rest she was free from responsibility, from expectation, from everything. She felt so determined, so driven, so spirited and so, so...

 _Alive._

Such an innocent adjective it was. Yet it held within it, literally, the stars and moons of her existence. Such subtle beauty that could change so much. And it was hers. Her little piece of serenity. Taking the risk of the Initiative even to gain all that she had achieved in the last couple of months had been worth it. Little did she know that fate had other more interesting tales for her, beginning with her arrival inside the Onaon System, several hundred-thousand miles away from Kadara.

She stared into the vast darkness of space, observing the shadowy formation of her enviro-suit reflected on the diamond-indented glass of the windscreen, a medley of silver metal and royal shawl and golden spirals, clear and unclear amongst the black.

Her sensors, despite her attempts, remained limited in information regarding their location. Any efforts from either herself or Messenger were disturbed by some sort of anomaly resonating high waves of energy. She theorised that the interference came from a mass of bronze-tinted phenomenon sighted along the system's outer borders. She had heard members of the Nexus comment on it before, naming it the Scourge. It was the thing that the Nexus first collided into, planting the first seeds for the mutiny and the limit of resources.

It sank stars, ate ships. It was a perisher upon the galaxy and one enigma she dared not go near.

During their drift, Messenger had calculated a course through the thickening nebula with surprising clarity, the shuttle managing to successfully stray away from the main parts of its dark energy field with little trouble caused. Such a sight had intrigued and startled the quarian, as had the strange image they had passed three days prior: a shuttle, not unlike their own, had been caught sparking within the anomaly's writhing grasp. On the comms there was a sign of some form of life, but on the outside, it appeared near dead.

Even if Iyali'Talaas wished to, she could not have aided in that poor soul's rescue. Her shuttle would not survive the impact and she had not fought for so long, only to allow the one beauty she witnessed to tear her dreams asunder.

Another form reflected along the pane, sharper and skinnier around the waist when standing than she was. A talon rested upon her shoulder, shaking her from her thoughts and bringing a wary smile to her face, not that he could see it.

Syrus brought his face down to hers, his breath fogging her helmet's right side. "How's the search holding up?"

Checking the sensors for anymore leads into their course, Iyali'Talaas shook the wariness from her hands and pressed her fingers into the command terminal, highlighting several planets on the map highlighted over the windscreen.

"Nedas [nowhere]. Truly, Syrus, I'm not sure where we are. We've passed the Zeng He System and should be past the Onaon System by now, but the Scourge seems to be interfering with our navigations. The best we can do is hope that we find a relatively familiar looking planet and find a way to Kadara from the charts collected at the Nexus."

"That's our only option?"

"I'm afraid so. According to this, all the star systems in Andromeda circle an impending black concentration of... something, that has a very high energy signature. From my estimates, I believe it is a black hole. If we get too close to its gravitational field we'll be sucked in. Our engines are tough but not tough enough to withstand the forces of that nature. It's better to go around carefully than to recklessly go straight through its pathway and hope for the best."

"Well, you're the pilot, kid, so I'll let you take us through."

He patted her shoulder and returned to his seat in the cockpit.

"Yes, Syrus, leave me to do the calibrations while you polish your rifle. Hardly seems fair."

"You know my mind doesn't work the way yours does," he croaked, collecting his rifle from the floor and swiping a piece of tattered cloth from his thigh-pouch. "I can hack my way into a terminal if needed be but show me any celestrial chart and my skull aches."

Scouring the barrel with the cloth, he paused, tilting it in a vertical manner to admire the gleam of shuttle-light caught in the reflection.

Clicking his mandibles in shameless pride, he returned to swabbing the grain, careful to not scrape the surface with his claws. "I'd probably have placed us in the centre of that black hole by now, you know. What was that saying? The navigational drive of a hanar, I believe it was."

"How strangely accurate."

For a while the two were content to simply enjoy the silence of each other's company, for that as what they did when finding themselves in a comfortable environment, no threats of death or assassination lingering upon them. There had been so many near-death experiences, so many losses during their adventures, and of the mutiny. But the two of them had little choice in leaving the starship.

The Nexus was dying.

They had read the reports, realised that food rations were too low to even sustain the current population onboard, that filtered water was becoming a scarce commodity, that power was depleting. Eventually, another mutiny would ensue. There was no doubt. Neither Syrus nor Iyali'Talaas wished to be apart of that when it happened: the fighting for scraps, all the good salvage gone. She did, deep down inside, feel for the people still there, but it was always her and Syrus' survival that was paramount. Everyone else came second.

Reaching for her satchel, a thought crossed her mind when feeling a subtle sting in her left side: an ache that had not fully subsided. Knowing where the soreness originated from, she gently felt along her ribs, touched the outer layer of her enviro-suit's skin and happened upon the once open tear. Iyali' prodded it to the tender flesh beneath.

Scarred.

That was one description for it. The previous months had indeed been troublesome for the quarian. Many times she had wondered if she should have repaired her suit when it was first ruptured rather than endure the illness, fatigue and utter suffering when her immune system fought for her survival.

Many times she had thought on begging for death, her pain her only relevant feeling throughout the struggle. She had the marks as evidence: jagged, uneven lines, pale indentations along her greying skin extending beyond the tear where she had clawed herself to lessen the pain. It was only in the last fortnight that she had managed to retain her health. For now.

Iyali'Talaas retracted her hands, folded them and lay back. The cockpit resonated with the gentle rhythm of the engines, acting as a mellow tune that lulled her wary body to a much needed rest.

She lay her head back against the headrest, allowing her eyes to flicker closed. "How're we doing, Messenger? Find any readings we can use?"

"Negative, Creator Talaas," the AI replied.

"That's good."

Sleep gradually descended upon the quarian, relaxing her muscles and steadying her heartbeat. She was so close, could practically feel the remnants of the shuttle leave her waking mind, replaced by cloud and pleasant memories.

Then the AI responded, his voice enough to nudge her from the recesses of slumber. Iyali'Talaas blinked beneath her visor, trying to steady her thoughts while her arms extended and clicked.

"What is it, Messenger?" she asked, rising from her rest, leaning her chest over the console. "Found anything interesting?"

"My sensors indicate a breach in the Scourge 5.7 hundred miles from our current destination," said the AI, highlighting the area on the frontal pane by a small red star. "This unit would advise setting course. Beyond lies open space."

"There's a way out of here? Finally! Messenger, you're a genius! Take us through."

"Affirmative, Creator Talaas."

On command, Messenger guided the ship through the Scourge, powering the engines at maximum velocity. The vessel curved through the nebula as if a log upon a fast flowing river, hurtling through the current, scurving the meteorites and space debris, following the star-point on the thick, diamond glass.

The rust-tainted nebula, convulsing in destructive impulses of erratically charged electrical currents that ignited the cloud has barely missed the Messenger's rear fins, though the path soon cleared, replaced by clear vacuum and shimmering twilight once more.

The console's compass ceased its endless spinning, while the magnetic needle pointed north-east instead of north. It was at this instant that the once sweet innocence in Iyali'Talaas' smile slowly soured to an uncertain frown.

The young quarian replayed the map on the console's left screen, searched the star-chart for their current destination, but the chart displayed a solar system the shuttle should have passed days ago and planets that had little similarity to Kadara. For three days they had been drifting in circles.

She leaned forward on her elbows, holding the view of the Onaon System and patches of Scourge surrounding it. Her cheeks flushed and her head sunk onto the console, a thud resonating through the vessel.

"Messenger," she began, peering up from her entanglement of folded arms. "We need to plot a new course to Kadara-"

Squinting, Iyali'Talaas drew herself closer to the shuttle's windscreen, seeing a merge of lighter shapes in the distance. As the shuttle drew closer, she began to sink back into her seat, legs curling up to her chest and feet hooking onto the chair's edge.

Ahead, many strange, unfamiliar anomalies floated amongst the Scourge. The many ships were hung like beacons against the storm, angled as skyscrapers adrift in the cosmos, mouldy in colour, goldenly lit and completely, utterly alien.

For many a-moment they stayed dormant, asleep, unknowing to the intruders in their sector of the galaxy. Though foreign in nature and sight, the eerie formations of the hive did not seem too opposing upon first glance, their forms far in the distant twinkling. But then, when the Messenger Mark II peeked from beneath the cover of chrome-cloud, daring to pass into unknown territory, the ships slowly began to turn, their golden portholes trained on the star-travellers.

Decelerating the ship's engines to a near standstill, Iyali'Talaas felt her skin prick upon the close contact, fear welling deep inside her core and stilling her body. The compass' needle wavered, the star-chart flickered, criss-crossed with grey and gold static lines.

Whatever interference played havoc with her controls worsened at the sight of them. And then one of the anomalies did something that shook the very breath from her lungs. It dared to move.

The farthest of the hive crawled through the expanse of dark space to the Messenger, its skin pulsing like a heart, maintaining the strength of the hive and its curiosity in the cluster. The nearer it drifted the larger it became, dwarfing the small Initiative ship by many metric tons.

Iyali'Talaas spied the long skeletal cracks on its wings, felt the juddering sickness of its engine in her bones as it rattled to a still, focused on the twisted notch of its nose, crooked and split like a stubbornly sealed seed pod, impacted by silvery crates and moss-ridden lesions. Its hull was missing a rigid oval hole, as if a leviathan from the deep had crunched a massive bite out of it.

Alien, maybe, but it was a wreck of a ship, damaged and tainted, yet still living, an ancient amongst its peers and a war chevalier among rival siblings.

"I am registering multiple alien ships in the vicinity, Creator Talaas, with over a hundred life-signs on-board each one. Many are scanning us."

Messenger's voice startled the young quarian, forcing her feet to the floor and her hands to the console. "Scanning us? For what?"

"Unknown."

Stepping out from the cockpit, knees grazing the floor, Syrus observed the strangers with quick eyes, taking everything in, making connections, searching for weakness.

The formation of the hive held a purpose, the brute strength at the front and the smaller, more agile cousins at the back. But before the turian could claim a relatively certain opinion on those strangers, the airship had halted just in front of them, shadowing the entirety of the small Initiative vessel.

Thinner, more maneuverable ships flashed by the windows, forcing the shuttle back until space-cloud touched its outer fins. Lights flickered across the Messenger Mark II, engines fell instantly quiet and any functionality seemed to disappear. Iyali'Talaas keyed commands into the console, but the keys remained devoid of life. The whole shuttle in a matter of blinks was dead.

"Messenger, what's happening? We've lost control of our navigations."

"Bastards have got us pinned against the Scourge," cursed Syrus, pivoting to the side-window and scowling at those smaller airships preventing their escape. "Trapped like rats."

"All power functions have been disengaged, Creator Talaas. Navigation is locked. This vessel is being prepared."

"Prepared?" she whispered, searching the airship's bright lights and lamina outer plating for some form of an answer. "They're... they're trying to capture us, aren't they? Or board our ship."

Syrus clucked his tongue, wringing his talons together. "So much for friendly introductions."

Fear inhibited the quarian's ability to properly think, her mind reeling in scenarios of old spacer tales, imagining what could happen if they were caught. From the tales of experimentation upon the living to the draining of energy from a ship, only relinquishing the vessel once it had been sucked dry and left to plunder endlessly into the abyss.

In Omega she had seen the worst of what the universe had to offer, of downtrodden scoundrels and merciless thugs. Yet even they were familiar to her. She had experience dealing with their like, knew how to play their game. But the aliens that trapped them in their force-field were unknowns, their ambitions unclear. They could do anything and that cut her the most. The endless, horrific possibilities.

Forcing her focus on the now, she threw herself under the console, checked the circuitry underneath for some sort of system reset. Seeing nothing but symmetrical wiring and missing instructions she returned to her seat, punching keys into an already dead command terminal.

"Messenger, we need to get out of here. You're patched into the heart of this vessel. Is there anything you can do? Power any of the systems or even the engines?"

No response. Syrus thrust his claws against the cockpit's wall, cursing under his breath. "No-no-no. Don't do this to us. Don't die on us now! Not when we need you to get us out of this mess."

All of a sudden the cockpit flared in crimson light, so bright that it temporarily blinded all those inside, too intense to have been properly simulated, as if there was only one spark of life left within the Messenger and the vessel took it without thought. Power reset into the engines and the vessel rocked in the void.

"Situation catastrophic. Decisive action required," said the AI before the under-thrusters propelled the Messenger Mark II several metres high over the alien airship. "You may wish to lock your seatbelts, Creator Talaas, Master Horaion. The current chance of survival is at twenty one percent."

Not needing another word the turian flew back into the cockpit, swiped the passenger seat belts across his pointed carapace and clutched his rifle to his gut.

Iyali'Talaas barely had time to fumble with her own buckles, lights and shadow coruscating, before she was thrown backward, keeling side-first into the chair, her helmet colliding into the headrest with a crack. The noise from the blast hit her sound perceptors with enough force to strangle any ability to hear for the first few heartbeats, the jolt instantly numbing her entire body and lack of sound knocking her self-awareness off course.

But then the vessel lurched in all directions, space and starlight merging in the windscreen as the Messenger Mark II swept back into the Scourge, whisking past dead space-rock and clawing cloud in an attempt to surpass the smaller alien airships gaining on the aft.

One air-ship extended a skeletal arm, hooked onto the Messenger's fin. Messenger tipped on its side, narrowing the chance to escape but catching the airship by surprise.

The Scourge grasped at the arm, tore half of the fin but engulfed the alien ship with it. The other fell back into the Scourge and the Messenger Mark II followed the navigation points on its chart, managing to pierce through a weakened part of the deadly nebula, shattering the skin into millions of tiny shards of fibreglass, before falling into further uncharted space.

"Systems critical. Engines failing," said Messenger, directing the shuttle to the closest port of rescue: an ashen planet several thousand metres away.

"That's- not comforting, Messenger!" gasped Iyali'Talaas, her fingers digging into the armrests, teeth chattering upon the vessel's inner shuddering. "Do whatever it takes to land us."

She looked into the windscreen, saw her partner's face in the reflection. His features fell grim, uncertain. "Kid, if we don't make it through this..."

Stifling a scream, she threw her focus away from him, centring it on the planet ahead. "Syrus, not now!"

The planet was not one like Kadara: neither copper-skinned nor seeming sustainable. It was a giant crescent, a red dwarf star made of clinker and fire, jagged and tainted, appearing barren and lifeless in its enraged, volcanic nature. There was no cloud cover like the pair had witnessed on other worlds, certainly not what Iyali'Talaas expected from known planetary weather formations. There was no brilliant blue atmosphere, no white polar caps, no luscious vegetation.

It was a dying world, a haven to hell.

Descending into the atmosphere, the entire cockpit shattered. Armour flew from racks, crates unhinged from their supports - smashed into walls. The interior screeched, ceaselessly enthralled in dents. The engines wauled from overheating and shreds of shrapnel peeled from the ends, flaking away into the sky.

Flares of heat lashed the windscreen, highlighted the Messenger's frame across ash-filled plumes. Small cracks had begun to splinter the corners, growing like plague-roots, tearing the glass to find a way in. A swift check from the meter readings confirmed what Iyali'Talaas had hoped would not be true: the shields were depleting and there was nothing she could do. All power was torn between the engines and what remained of that shield. She could only sit back and wait for the inevitable.

Below, the world gradually began to appear. The surface appeared to be molten, rippling lines of fire scarring each tiny plane of earth as if the planet itself was a marble rimmed in gyres of coloured glass. Messenger fell like a meteorite through the crippled sky, gaining momentum in its arcing plunge towards the world's barren surface, disintegrating upon reaching the mountain peaks.

Then, something truly miraculous happened. The shuttle rose. The AI cut the remaining systems, rendering all energy to the shields and thrusters, flying the shuttle as its own gliding body through the storm, following the light of a distant horizon where the sun began to shine in a new dawn.

Before Iyali'Talaas, the hellish landscape of her living nightmare dissipated: the molten rock faded from the world, replaced by an ocean of watery milky-blue and glistening emerald forest. Mountains passed the small shuttle by, spear-like mammals fluttered along a northern wind, skimming their feathers along the skin of a river before diving down into the glittering mist of a waterfall. The sky gradually whitened, turning the ship into a coral-rimmed silhouette, dancing in the river's calmer waters.

There was hope and there was life. They had happened upon a miracle, upon a paradise.

Upon Aya.

Iyali'Talaas leaned forward in her seat, staring at the canopy that slipped by beneath the vessel, the tips of the highest trees just ghosting their keel. She could imagine the sweet smells of lavender and soaked soil, the calls of the local wildlife chirping, squawking, growling, of the cold press of rainwater sliding down a warm, ungloved hand. All new, all mysterious, all invigorating and a little frightening.

The Messenger Mark II's troubles seemed a distant past, a barely real reality. That was until it shuddered once more, finally descending for the last time from the sky and into the forested haven below.


	5. The Angara

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Five: The Angara

There was a saying on Omega many-a lifetime ago among the local pirates for a pilot who had managed to end the lives of their ships more than once: ill-starred.

It was used as a curse by space-sailors, a jest among crewmen at local trading ports for those that had fate's unforgiving reaper tailing their journeys while inflight. She had thought little of it in her past. Her piloting and raids went unhindered for many years.

That was until she woke one time during a late noon, sunlight peeking through her shuttle's cleft windscreen and the electrical disturbance from severed wiring coruscating in the late evening-shade behind her. Her entire upper waist lay tightly fastened into a stubbornly welded harness bolted to what once was the floor, while her arms dangled above her silent form as nooses caught in a gentle wind, blurred and twitching in her mind's hazy eye.

With her world upside down she could not help but wonder... Perhaps there was truth to the ill-starred after all. For what other ill-timed fate had took her under its wing, other than that? She, after all, had crashed her Messenger not once, but twice; still alive to tell the humiliating tale.

Iyali'Talaas, groaning under the strain of suspended joints and muscle, dragged her hand to the centre of her chest where harness and belt intertwined, slotting two fingers into the middle press and clicking her thumb along the sideward catch. Gravity intervened, tugging her to the cold steel of the wreckage, while her arms ungracefully untangled themselves from the seatbelts in the process, her whole body landing side-first with a thud.

"That look like it hurt."

She coughed and forced herself onto her back. She stared at the seat she had just freed herself from: the belts still in sway. "It did, you bosh'tet."

From shadow the turian peered up, a bulb of light shining out of the corner of his shaded specs, highlighting the whites of his eyes and the infuriating curve of his jaw, one the quarian knew all too well as mirth. He clambered over crates and dented lockers, tripped over full body suits and shattered helmets scattered along the floor, then knelt on one knee. He grasped her shoulder, aided in her rise from the ground and then went back to the aft end of the ship searching for salvage.

The quarian dusted any dirt from her shawls, tightening the fabric around her enviro-suit before stumbling over to the cockpit, shuffling through the datapads and packets of loose omni-gel for access to the keys.

"No use trying any of that," the turian yelled, waving a hand from behind a cracked crate. "I'm no engineer but considering how many times I've tried to get the controls online, I'd say there's no salvaging it."

"Damn it."

He was correct. Messenger had saved the majority of the wreckage during the crash. The main supports and decking remained relatively intact with only a few wires causing havoc. However, the main terminal, no matter how much she attended to the circuitry underneath or checked the screens for life, remained the same. There was no power but that did not mean that the Messenger Mark II was beyond repair.

"Syrus, can you do me a favour and check for damage on the outside?" Iyali'Talaas asked, bringing herself up from beneath the command terminal. "I need to know what I'm working with."

"On it."

Scrambling through the wreckage, Syrus reached for the latch above the doorway and clicked it into place, sliding the doors ajar, just managing to slip through the gap.

Iyali'Talaas braced her back against the console, then slipped all the way to the floor, bringing her knees up to her chest. Reaching to her neck, the young quarian rubbed her thumb along her necklace, idly circling the orb that felt solid and cold, like led. "Damn it."

"My sensors are damaged, Creator Talaas, but this unit's experience in these matters concludes that you are upset," Messenger's voice whispered across the cockpit, muffled and broken but still uniquely there. The ship may not have been as badly damaged as she had thought.

"Your body is broken again, Messenger," she sighed, wrapping her arms over her knees and tucking her head in the crevice. "We're stranded on a ship that's damaged and on a world that we don't even know anything about. But it's good to hear your voice. I'm glad this shuttle isn't as torn up as the last one. To know that you are still intact is comforting."

"This unit is also experiencing content in being intact."

She laughed. "I'm glad. You know I wouldn't know what to do without you. Do you know how much damage was done during the impact? Think the Messenger Mark II will see the skies again?"

A stream of clicks and surration enveloped the inner vessel's speakers before an answer was given. "Unknown. With the shuttle offline it is difficult to determine what is currently stable and that which is not. However, this unit does know that shortly after the impact during power failure, alerts were centred to the engine core and outer plating. The organs of this vessel remain relatively intact with only a few minor panels needing repairs. With the correct components, the Messenger Mark II, or this unit, will indeed fly again."

The quarian drew in a weary breath, braced her arms against the console and rose shakily from the floor. "That's good to know. But until then I'd rather have you safe than leave you in this place, if that is alright with yourself?"

Flipping the panel beneath the console, Iyali'Talaas unclasped her necklace and connected it up to the port-hub, waiting for her AI's spark of life to inhabit it.

"Of course, Creator Talaas. Remember, should you require further assistance, connect this unit to this vessel and we shall speak further."

"You know I'd keep you here if I could Messenger," she whispered, watching a flicker of blue zap into the necklace and for its small ruby to gleam. "But until we know this planet is safe, I'd rather keep you with me."

Re-attaching the necklace to her enviro-suit, Iyali'Talaas realised how familiar the warmth of her necklace felt with life reunited inside of it. Despite her wish for her AI's freedom, she did rely on his presence to feel stable, safe, secure. He was apart of her, just as she was apart of him: opposites in spirit and design, perhaps, but reliant on each other to maintain a stable whole. They both knew it.

Searching the cockpit for anymore salvage, Iyali'Talaas bent over a set of dented lockers and pried the stubborn seals open. Swiping a hand over her omni-tool she directed her arm out and allowed the golden light to snuff out the shadows, quickly pocketing the rounds for her pistol, stuffing them in the pouch by her holster. Just as she stood, she heard a strange muffled sound come from beyond the cockpit, drawn from the outside.

"Syrus?" she called, passing her hand over her holstered pistol.

"Kid, you may want to come out here."

Ever-curious, she folded her sash back over her holster and peeked through the gap in the doorway. With no sign of her turian she forced the doors aside and slipped through.

She had been to many worlds in her short life, seen the variety of formations that came in different solar systems, but what graced her presence at the very step of her crashed shuttle was truly unique.

Drawing forth from the interior of the shuttle, IyaliTalaas could feel the streams of sunlight breaking through the dense canopy above her small form, instantly warming her enviro-suit, but not uncomfortably so. The Messenger Mark II had landed within the very heart of a forest, a fathomless grove of towering sentinel trees and tiny sapling shoots, entangled in lichen leaves, humming orchids and vibrant floral blossoms, all concealed in dusk-shaded clusters, while grass and rose-red wildflowers flayed in a gentle wind.

She heard the quiet chirps and rustling leaves from alien life high in the branches, and saw the vibrant rainbow-wings of a feathered creature struggle to perch its three talons over a twisted stump.

Bracing a hand over her helmet's cowl, white eyes aglow in wonder, Iyali'Talaas saw tiny feathery flakes fall from the heavens, passing in silence by an evening wind, only emitting a whisper when contacting her outstretched hand - a small bulb of fluff coiling several hundred legs over her gloved, open palm.

The seed through its many hairs contained a bead of light that continued to chime as it was moved, and the quarian wondered if all individual drifting seeds carried that same chime, perhaps the light being its very life source. She wasn't sure why but she felt that the seed's tiny emitter of sound was a hopeful plea, for her to allow the seed to pass from her touch to the ground so it could one day grow into the formation of its forefathers. It was so small, so fragile.

And so she heeded the seed pod's wish, gently tilting her hand until it drifted from her glove, kissing the swishing grass until it lay softly upon a bed of mounded earth.

Her new world truly was beautiful.

It was because of her instant fascination with her new world that distracted her normally heightened awareness. She did not see the shadowed forms advancing from the grove's outer borders, untangling themselves from the flora. She did not see the spear-like weapons pointed at her person until she heard the struggled cough of her friend and her gaze darted from the ground.

Syrus stood struggling a far distance from her, both talons fixed on his assailant's thick arms while a speck of sharp silver gleamed beneath his face plates, over his armour and into the taut, thin flesh of his throat.

Iyali'Talaas felt her own throat clutch tight. She twisted around to find that there were many humanoid forms around them, strange black rifles aimed at her chest with tiny dots dancing across her enviro-suit. They had been ambushed.

Knowing there was nothing she could do, Iyali'Talaas quietly succumbed to her rush of fear and drew her hands up, hooking them behind her head.

The assailants enclosed around her, strange creatures in black modified hardsuits, protected by thicker, more robust chest and leg armoured panels and a helmet resembling the outer head-shell of an insect. A large rectangular visor fell down the centre, tinted black. She could not see their faces, only their forms and noticed that each of their hands held four fingers, but their leg structures were curved inwardly around the calf, meaning that whatever they were, they certainly were not human, nor turian.

They could have been salarian, or even quarian, but after just crashing on a desolate world, a world the Nexus had not even heard of, she deemed it as very unlikely, especially in their numbers.

Incoherent mutters waved through them in a language neither Syrus nor Iyali'Talaas could comprehend. The quarian pressed a finger to her ear-piece, wondering if her language translator had been damaged in the crash. But then she realised, if she was amongst a new species, her translator may not have been as useful as she had hoped.

From the back of two assailants one stepped forward, strangely less concealed compared to the others of her people. She too wore a hardsuit, only it held less armour than the others and was of a thinner material, perhaps better suited as casual-wear than for war.

It was upon first appearance that the quarian knew that she was amongst a new species, for despite the alien's womanly mien, a broad chest and narrow, feminine waist, her face was different, not incredibly so but enough to differentiate between any other race the quarian knew of. Her jaw was small, her nasal cavities pinched and there were two thick, smooth appendages extending from a crown-like shell over her brow to the centre of her chest, giving her face a soft triangular shape.

But what intrigued Iyali'Talaas the most was her eyes, a brilliant, stony silver inside two large, rounded sockets - eyes that gleamed in expression and emotion with an intricate design that seemed to hold a uniquely dazzling universe encased within them.

Iyali'Talaas could only wonder what she and Syrus looked to them, the turian being the equivalent of a thin man plated in stone, while she, maybe familiar bodied, but completely shelled outwardly. She was surprised that they did not seem humorous to them. She knew she would have, given other circumstances.

The female stopped several feet from Iyali'Talaas, leaning in forwards with her leonine eyes narrowed. The quarian coughed and the female flinched.

"I-I'm sorry," she quickly said, raising her hands high. She felt the flash of advancing guards and swiftly stumbled away. "I didn't mean to worry you!"

The female frowned, raising her hand and returning to her place in front of the quarian. Looking between themselves, her guards took a few moments to contemplate on the command before eventually slinking back to their original positions. Their broad shoulders seemed a little more rigid.

"You cannot intimidate what you do not know," the female had said, her voice youthful and curious, despite her seemingly older persona. "I am Malseh Ama Val, third in succession to Paraan Shae, the governess of Aya. We are the angara and you are trespassers on our sacred land. Speak. Why did you come? Is this an act of war or terror?"

Iyali'Talaas tilted her head, confused. "You can understand us?"

She blinked twice, drawing back from the quarian and biting her lip. "You are not the first outsiders we have come across in our galaxy, nor spoken to. You crossed dark space. We have heard of your journey. But you are the first to have seen our world."

"I see. And what is your position among your people? Are you a diplomat?"

"I am many things to my people. A keeper, a warrior, an architect and a guardian to their culture, whatever the Resistance needs of me. But that should not concern the likes of you. Which of the aliens did you arrive with? We have seen the h-u-man, apes that walk with straight legs." She directed her gaze to Syrus, nodding in his direction. "We are familiar with the sharp one's race as well, seen only once and so do not have a name for his species. Yours, we have not seen."

Iyali'Talaas felt her fingers twitch behind her head.

Her people. It had been a long time since she had last thought on them, on whether they had ever decided to follow the Initiative in their journey to Andromeda or simply let matters of fate lie. The idea of other quarians one day being within the same galaxy as her unnerved her, causing her feet to shift in the forest's dirt. She did not like the idea of meeting another quarian when she tried so hard to stay away from them.

And so when she spoke, she unwillingly let some pent-up irritation slip through her words. "Nor will you. As far as I know, I'm the only one of my kind here."

The angara stared at her captured warily, her features instantly softening and a wave of sorrow glinting in her eyes. "Is that so? That is sad. A strange, lonely feet for one to leave their people, all family, or perhaps that is merely your custom?"

Peering down at the grass, her brows creasing, Melsah exhaled slowly. She returned to observing her captured quarian, a frown now present. "But you did not answer my question. What are you? Who did you come from? Where did you get your..." she glanced at the ruined Messenger Mark II, a hint of a smile tugging at her lip, "transportation?"

"We're with the Nexus, kid," called Syrus from the other end of the grove, audibly gulping when the dagger was drawn tighter across his throat. "Humans. And in case you're wondering, the name's Syrus. I'm what my people call a t-u-r-i-a-n. Simple enough to say if you try."

The young angara gave a brief nod. "I will remember that. And you?"

"I'm quarian."

Malseh's tongue fumbled over the word, tasting the strange sound while not truly being able to pronounce the vowels.

Iyali'Talaas smiled beneath her visor, gently testing the waters of her situation by gradually lowering her hands to her side. The angara watched her action but said nothing. "We are star travellers from a distant galaxy, known as the Milky Way. We mean you and your people no harm. We were trying to pass your planet by, but your people targeted us and we were forced to land. If you hadn't fired, we wouldn't be here right now."

Confusion fell upon the young angara. She glanced uncertainly between her people. "We did not aim at your cruiser, vesoan. The damage done was not of our making. It could only have been done by the star's deadly breath or by the Kett."

Glancing back at her shuttle, Iyali'Talaas felt herself frowning upon the name. "Kett? What are the Kett?"

Malseh Ama Val suddenly reached for the quarian's arm, tugging it to her. Iyali'Talaas stumbled forward and the guards moved for her. "You do not know? You have not heard of the Kett? The terrors of my people's history. The phantoms amongst the stars, taking angara wherever they find us, only for them to be lost to us forever? How long have you been in our system, surely you should have seen them by now?!"

The quarian yanked her arm back, stumbling away from the angara and pressing her hand against her outer thigh. "I'm a-afraid I do not know who they are. I'd advise not touching me again," she warned, observing the quick reactions of the other angara very closely.

Before Malseh could respond a large, broad form disturbed the undergrowth behind her. She had spied a figure of hyacinth skin and cerulean cape through the dense thicket, her arms slowly coming to rest over her waist.

Another angara had joined the growing number in the grove, male and slightly taller than Malseh, but the fluidity of his movements and general atmosphere brought by him demanded a certain level of respect. The sudden frown he gave made Malseh's shoulders slump.

"What are you doing here?" he had asked, drawing up to her with a fiery glint in his left eye. "I told you to wait by the gates to the city."

Malseh raised her head to her superior, pushing her ample lips out. Upon the elder man's humoured stare she shook her head ruefully, admitting and denying nothing. "As third to the governess it is my vow to take the duties of any matters should Paraan Shae be unable to attend. I-I am here because there was an urgent matter and no one higher in the Resistance would take me seriously." She nodded to the quarian. The male's lips firmed in response. "See? Is this not important, Jaal?"

"Hmn. We will speak of this later. Your mother will not be pleased."

"My mother does not understand our people's political matters as much as she likes to think she does, Jaal. Star's fortune be with her, but she would not agree to aiding our people in this, and since no one else would, I took up the opportunity."

"Then it is a good thing I'm here," said he, placing a large hand over her left shoulder. "Evfra saw the ship come in and sent me to find out what's going on."

The angaran man turned away from the younger of his race, observing the captured quarian carefully before daring to stalk over to her. Every step was precisely calculated and born from caution. Iyali'Talaas knew her focus was trained on his every move, wary and a little excited.

"She is a q-ari-un from another galaxy. A vesoan, explorer."

Jaal stood just before Iyali'Talaas and leaned his face in.

It was fascinating how distinguishing the argaran species was when it came between their genders: the females had a dainty yet still strong formation while the males had a larger, more defined bone structure. Jaal's face was not as softly angled as Malseh's and his crown was a lot thicker, holding folds of flesh on either side of his head and neck, extending down to connect to a point in his chest.

What intrigued the young quarian the most was his eye-piece, connected over his right eye by a black, metal frame with diagrams flowing through a translucent lens. His people were technologically advanced, that was for certain. She could only wonder by how much and if they surpassed that of the Nexus.

The angaran's great blue eyes danced over her enviro-suit, studying the indented symbols on the frame, the places where the suit had been welded together and of the sanguine fabric decorating her chest, trying to understand the individual that was so very alien to him. His focus finally rested on her helmet, angling his face around the visor, attempting to find the lifeform under the steel exterior, perhaps hoping to find something alike or familiar.

Catching the whites of her eyes, he said very clearly, in a voice both deep and guttural, "Aya is hidden. Protected. What do you want?"

Daring to find her own voice, Iyali'Talaas settled the nerves welling within her gut and raised her head to his. "To... leave?"

Jaal's lips curled curiously.

"That is if we're not welcome here. Though I have to say your planet is beautiful." He remained quiet. "We never meant to come here. We didn't even know this planet existed. You can check our star charts yourselves. We were meant to go somewhere else, to pass this solar system entirely. But we headed into trouble. Airships above this world damaged my own and we crashed here."

Jaal glanced away, slowly nodding his head. "Hmn. I see."

He began to turn away, but Iyali'Talaas reached out, taking the crook in his elbow for the briefest moment. The angaran twisted back, raising his rifle and shoving the point in the young quarian's chest.

Silently shaking his head, his eyes almost pleading, he whispered, "I wouldn't if I were you."

Iyali'Talaas coughed at the sharp point, passed a hand over it to try and tilt it in another direction. It remained still, firm, unmoving. She raised her hands. "You may not like it but we're here now. I would never expect you to trust me, just as I do not trust you. Allow Syrus and I to mend our vessel and we'll be out of your forests before sunrise."

That was if she could mend her vessel.

He looked deeply suspicious. "We've heard similar before. It did not end well. You could be allianced with the Kett."

"Check the ship if you need evidence. It seems that you're in the middle of a war with these other people, so I'm sure you've seen their weapon fire on your own star-ships, if you have star-ships."

The male angaran regarded the captured with intrigue, a strange, unique flicker of opportunity sparkling beneath his eye-piece. Giving her a curtly nod he returned to the younger of his race, pausing to whisper in her ear before heading towards the undergrowth. "I will return to inform Evfra. See what he makes of this. You've done a good thing here, little one. Maintain the aliens until I come back. Don't let them out of your sight."

Iyali'Talaas saw his form begin to envelope in leaves and vines. Before he disappeared completely, she dared to move forward, near chasing after him until the other angara wretched forward and forced the two of them to apart. "Do I get to know the full name of my most gracious host?"

The male angaran peered down at the young quarian, brow-ridges connected in a way she could not completely understand. The cogs in his mind turned, his lips mumbling in silent contemplation. "I am Jaal Ama Darav."

The quarian nodded. "A pleasure."

"And you are-?"

"That depends," she said, stepping back from the angaran man to view the exterior damage of her ship. "Promise me you will return. If you do, I may share that information, along with much more."

She heard the distant ruffling of vine and leaf, felt the stare of the angaran man disappear before she managed to look back. What she did miss, however, was the small smirk Jaal Ama Darav carried with him all the way through the depths of the forest, only for it to drift upon reaching the great stairway to Aya's city.

The quarian's words held a hidden meaning. A silent invitation and promise. Perhaps he would indeed return to the strange alien being, if purely to know her secrets.

Just as she had hoped.


	6. Angaran Revelations

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Six: Angaran Revelations

She lay in the grove of Aya for what seemed to be infinite, enough time passing for her to witness the last rays of Onaon's star cresting over towering trees and distant mountain peaks, then nestling far into the depths of the west. The skies gradually faded from blue to rose, then from rose to grey, the shadows of dusk befalling the world for what could have been a very long, perhaps fearful night. But being within the situation that Iyali'Talaas was in gave her the perfect excuse for study.

She had noticed after spending sometime with the angara that they outwardly appeared to be a generally calm, diplomatic people whom revered their stars, though in what way was a little unclear. She did not know if the alien people believed the stars to be their deities, or simply found solace in watching a beautiful event. But, there was some relevance of meaning for them when the first stars appeared.

Malseh Ama Val and her kin's focus had shifted upwards at some point during the late eve, as if sensing a sudden abundance of light. All communication between them fell dormant and their eyes looked to round up, then gleam and miraculously shine.

Iyali'Talaas knew the angara were different, for she had never witnessed a united people come together for such a natural sight that to many was meaningless. She felt like the outsider that she truly was, intrigued and cautious in watching them. Of course, she studied them just as surely as they were studying her, but such a meet was something neither species had prepared for. That, however, did not mean that it was entirely unwelcome.

There was reason to learn if both people permitted it. And it was at that point, after many hours past nightfall when the angara finally allowed themselves some needed calm, that the quarian decided that the people she was with, though strange and peculiar, would not be as much of a threat as she had first perceived them to be. They were fearful of the new, as was their right. She was the intruder in their home. Their actions were only in self defense. It was something they had in common.

Though that did not mean she would trust them. She had already plotted ways to distract them if needed be, excuses and lies shifting through her mind to the point that her lips nearly betrayed any plans for her, moving with little conscious thought. But for a long time she had little else to do then ponder in thought.

The angaran man, Jaal Ama Darav, had yet to return.

They had waited for what seemed to be longer than a day, time perhaps a slower event than on planets in the Milky Way. She had begun to wonder if he would ever return or simply call his people once a decision was made. To execute them where they sat. She knew after a while that it would come, waited specifically for that call to know who she was truly dealing with.

Her hand idly plucked the grass beneath her legs while her gaze was drawn to the surrounding sentinel shadows. Every time a guard dared advance her shoulders twitched, and every time one took a peek at them from the corner of their eyes, she plucked a stem. At the rate she was plucking, the meadow would be void of plant life by sunrise.

That was until something shifted in the forest, making Iyali'Talaas blink from her plans and slowly sit up from the long grass. Fireflies fluttered between her and the present angara, lighting the darkness and disturbing all that had been silent. The undergrowth rustled once more and the angara immediately sunk back into the cover of leaves; raised their rifles and dragged the young, fidgeting Malseh with them.

Iyali'Talaas and Syrus dove into the shelter of their shuttle. Fearing the worst, Syrus scrambled to a hidden locker and reached for his rifle. Then, after lowering his body onto the cool metal of the shuttle floor, he fixed his rifle's snout into the edge of the doorway, hooked the butt under his arm and peeked through the scope.

The quarian however, much to her companion's uncertain frown, kept her hands still from her thigh. She was reluctant to show the angara that she was in fact armed, for once the fight was done they would surely confiscate Syrus of his.

But when the familiar cloak of blue and translucent eye piece shimmered through the black, thick, wide-reaching arms rising through the branches and even longer legs stretching out into the clearing, a united sigh was given by all living forms within the grove. Syrus lowered his rifle to the floor and tucked it into the shuttle, folding patches of cloth and armour to hide it.

Iyali'Taalaas in turn smoothed the fabric over her thigh, smiling at the fact that the angara had indeed returned. After a moment, she and Syrus quietly dispersed from the shuttle and returned to sitting in the grass, hands over knees and focus drawn to the returning arrival.

Many of the angara drew into the clearing's light as well, training their tools of war back to the captured. And so, after everything returned to an unsteady equilibrium, Jaal approached Malseh Ama Val with barely any expression. As they conversed, the two abducted star-travelers exchanged wary glances and observed the two angara with little idea into their suspected fates.

Once their words had been spoken, the two angara parted ways. Malseh, keeping a long stride's distance from those in the grass, ringed her hands, then touched her upper crown. Her people looked between themselves before holstering their weapons and descending into the forested growth.

After a moment, there was only the four of them standing on opposite ends of the glade with earth and vine as their parting.

Iyali'Talaas carefully rose from the grass and trod over thorny roots and uprooted stone. She paused a few feet away from them and covered her cowl with a hand when it began to shiver in the breeze. "I never thought I'd see you again."

She had expected the twist in expression, the knock of a rifle, the slice from a dagger. She had expected the angara, despite what she had seen, to wretch the very proposal of a truce from her before she had managed to utter another word, either resulting in the end their lives or the inevitable hostage situation, for that was what would have happened in her past life.

Honesty, humbleness and kindness were tools of manipulation over the weak and easily fooled after all, and the aliens were already in a war. A few more casualties probably meant nothing to them, and there was no Officer Hellior on the Nexus to aid in their struggles now.

Defying that expectation, the angara made no immediate threat.

His lips gradually quirked at the sides and face, surprisingly, softened. When he next spoke there was a tone of deep contemplation, and a thoughtfulness that to Iyali'Talaas felt to hold a vague impression of fascination. "Neither had I, until I thought on your words. There is something different about you, I feel... what you said to me was fascinating. You being here in itself is... fascinating. I feel that you are not Kett sympathisers, or else you would not be here... on fire."

"Was on fire," amended Syrus, nodding to the ruined vessel and charcoal fumes protruding from the rear engine ports.

Jaal erupted in a low rumble. His bow-taut shoulders rose and fell like timber floating on an unsteady tide. "Indeed, perhaps you are right."

Iyali'Talaas sighed, finding solid balance on the ground once more. Having gained an understanding of her situation, she found herself evermore curious into her suspected fate. "Have you come to a decision? I'm not sure whether the leave of your forces is a good or a bad sign."

"The truth of the matter is that for the moment, they are not needed. Make no mistake, every angara is a fighter within themselves. We do not need an army to best you."

"I understand. But you have spoken to your people, yes? Any chance they will be willing to lend us some support in mending our ship?"

Jaal lowered his gaze to the ground. "There is nothing I can do. Efvra has spoken. You are alien to us and my people do not trust outsiders. Many will not hear your cause." He gently looked up from beneath the rim of his eye-piece, cleared his throat and straightened his back. "The rules are clear. You are allowed to seek sanctuary here until your ship is repaired, but you cannot go near the borders to our city. Stick to the forest and you will receive no trouble from us."

The quarian shook her head. "But I'm no engineer. I have experience in repairing my suit and omni-tool, but the exterior of my shuttle was thrown in the crash. Without the plates or a patch the Messenger Mark II will not fly. We need replacements, aid. In truth, I'm not quite sure how to mend my ship. Can you truly spare no one?"

"No. You must understand, you come in a time of war for my people, and the Kett try to best us at every turn. Outsiders cannot be trusted."

She snorted, leaning on one hip and folding her arms. "Cannot be trusted or won't try?"

"Let me be clear," he warned, taking a cautious step forward. "If we perceived you as a threat, you would not be here alive."

"Bosh'tet. You could aid in our repairs, you could choose to help us, but you choose not to. You are too afraid to be executioners and so allow another force to do the job for you. As far as I'm concerned, your people are no better then the Kett."

An icy ire caught the quarian by surprise. A foul expression had crossed the angaran's face, with the corner of a curled lip baring two jagged fangs and a darkness that engulfed the light from his eyes. "We are nothing like the Kett."

She could feel the resentment boiling within the alien, yet still she continued. "Then prove it to us! Prove to us that you are worth more than those you fight. Actions speak louder than words, Jaal Ama Darav. How can we expect any trust from one another if we don't aid each other when we're vulnerable?"

His gaze searched the ground for what the quarian supposed was an answer, the chain of his command's ultimatum and her plea giving him cause for thought. Eventually, however, his answer remained the same.

IyaliTalaas refused to face him any longer and twirled around on her heel. Staring determinedly into the forest, she softened her voice and adopted a fraught disposition - dropping her shoulders and hugging her body. "Then what use is your word? You're just going to leave us here, alone, left to the natural wilds of your planet. That's an executioner's decision, no way about it. It doesn't matter if you're just the messenger. At least my family won't hear any of this."

She allowed the quiet to sound out, a part of her slightly uneasy with the fear that her ruse had been foiled. That was until a delightful tension struck the air between them. Iyali'Talaas waited patiently for some kind of reaction, and found that she could feel the rickety locks that clutched Jaal's decision slowly begin to unravel.

"You have a family?" had come a whisper.

She hesitated, then briefly nodded. "I did. Once."

"I… I apologise, for the news of your family."

Frowning, the quarian felt her arms go slack and return to her sides. "It's not your fault. You've made your decision. You better go back to your city and leave us out here alone."

"Not necessarily alone."

Her hearing pricked. "I'm sorry?"

"Leaving you unsupervised would be ill-advised. I've been told to keep my eyes on you, to see whether you are a threat to the Resistance."

Iyali'Talaas slowly turned to face the angaran man, surprised that he had raised to the bait so quickly. "You will?"

The angara, smiling sadly, nodded. "I will."

There was a sense of honour in which he confirmed it, a respect that the quarian had not seen the likes of before. She was not sure at first if the angara as a species were simple to manipulate or if a few were truly naive, but she could not believe that there would only be him watching her and Syrus. Perhaps he was the only one to guard them, but others would surely have been watching, waiting, perhaps far into the undergrowth that she could scarcely see.

Still, to know that her strategy had worked to some measure gave her a sense of stability. She could work her way around him, if given time.

On the other end of the grove, Syrus, after curiously observing the play on words between his quarian and the Aya inhabitant, found himself cackling under a shade of leaves, holding his carapace with one claw and clawing his brow-plate with the other. Shaking himself from the laughter, he removed himself from the company of the two, landing on a jagged rock and hooking his legs together once stretched out.

Jaal seemed to find it difficult to determine what brought Syrus' change in emotion about. He warily raised a brow-ridge high and looked to Iyali'Talaas for answers.

The turian briefly shook his head. "This. This is going to be interesting."

"And what is so interesting to consequent your laughter, Syrus?" Iyali'Talaas asked curiously.

"The flat-crowns fickle attempt at mild persecution. It's a joke. We come, drawn from the skies onto their world, then after a bit of conversation, they scurry, leaving..." he raised a claw, "one of their people to guard us." Without either the angara or quarian showing any hint of understanding, he added, "You, kid, truly have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

Jaal frowned. His broad shoulders squared and hand reached to his back. "Is that a threat?"

"A threat?" Syrus asked, churning the earth beneath his boot. "No. Merely an observation. Let me ask this: do we seem like the threatening kind to you? Do we look like murderers?"

"My people learned long ago that appearances can be deceiving. We will not be making that mistake again."

"Good. That's damn good." His toes paused, dug deep into the dirt. "Make sure you don't forget that, flat-crown. It may save your life."

Across the grove, a macaw-like creature screeched, leaving its vine and twig perch in a flurry of vibrant, primary colours. The four life forms watched its leave from the grove, all quiet and in thought, until Iyali'Talaas disrupted it, warily wringing her hands. "It seems you will be staying with us after all, Jaal Ama Darav. I might as well welcome you to... the crew? There is only two of us, Syrus Horaion over there and myself over here. Not truly much of a crew."

Malseh cleared her throat from the edge of the clearing, gaining the attention of Jaal, Iyali'Talaas and Syrus. Stepping over to Jaal, one hand extended, she said, "Jaal, are you sure this is wise?"

Jaal cupped her hand, patted it and drew it back into her chest. "That is not up for you to decide now, is it? Go back to Aya. Your mother is waiting for you."

"Jaal-"

"Now, Malseh. Do not keep your mother waiting. Okay?"

Malseh's mouth quivered. She looked from Jaal to Iyali'Talaas before straightening her back and locking her hands by her sides. Turning from them, she headed into the forest and did not look back.

Jaal, however, sighed when all sign of her had disappeared. His shoulders had dipped, making it seem as if he was curling in on himself in a peculiar, sad sort of way.

"I'm glad you're willing to trust us," Iyali'Talaas said, stretching her two-fingered and one thumbed hand out.

The angaran watched her hand curiously, stretching his head around to see if there was anything inside it. Finally, he yanked her arm up and tied his with hers. "I don't. But I can always kill you in your sleep."

Smiling behind her visor, the quarian dropped her arm and stepped away from him. "You could, Jaal Ama Darav. But where would the thrill be in that?"


	7. Angaran Revelations ACT II Loneful Night

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Seven: Angaran Revelations ACT II, Loneful Nights

The following days were an oddity for the recent inhabitants of the Heleus Cluster and those native to Aya. Neither quite knew what to make of the other, with their situations often ending in attempted questions and hardly ever any answers. Iyali'Talaas and Syrus kept as guarded about their past as the angaran was about his people, and though both yearned to more about the other, barely anything was ever truelly uttered.

On the first day, the foreign spacetravellers spent their time discerning what truly was wrong with their shuttle, checking from severed wiring and faulty control panels to the missing outer shell plates that must have split on collision with Aya. The second day was spent salvaging what metal they could, but no matter which parts they found (often in bedded in vine-tangled trees or slow-flowing rivers), there was some confusion on which part was to be fixed to which side of the ship.

The third and fourth days were spent scouting local terrain and counting how many of their stolen supplies from the Nexus had survived the crash. Surprisingly, it was the majority of their food sachets and water containers. The fears of starvation and dehydration were at least for the moment put to rest. On the fifth day, thick, dark clouds had loomed over the horizon and it was not long before the spacetravellers found themselves settling inside their shuttle while the outside weather battered hard against the Messenger's outer walls.

Nestled safely inside their little alcove from the storm with the cockpit tidy and clear, the three life forms found themselves close to the shaded light of an angaran lantern. It was a strange, translucent orb that held a flickering bug-like creature inside of it. Tapping the glass with its pincers, its small body cast the chamber in a comfortable, amber glow.

From the end of the cockpit were the groans of a sleeping turian, head slanted against the armrest of his chair and a fine layer of drool leaking from the corner of his jaw. Storms had always been a strange thing for him, often being his preferred time of rest. Why, Iyali'Talaas often could not be entirely sure, only that he was the most anxious when left to sleep in a place absent of sound.

She could understand it, she mused, when staring through the front pane to the outside, following the small rivers of water with her finger. Quietness to her was safety, an ideal environment to ponder. To Syrus, it was listening out for the slightest movement, picking up on the strangest murmur that he couldn't quite place. It left him on edge, fearful, but with the lashing of rainwater and battering of the wind, there was too much noise to focus or worry. And so he slept, like the baby equivalent of a krogan falling asleep to the sound of its family battling beyond its crib.

Taking her hand from the window, she spied the traces of liquid on the metal of her suit and angled the droplets closer to her visor.

'What would the water feel like?' she wondered, observing the way the droplets cascaded across her fingers when tilted at just the right point. 'Would the water feel cold, or had the temperature of the shuttle warmed it?' Knowing it would be a long time before she could test that chance, she quietly rubbed her fingers together and leaned back in the pilot seat, kicking the edge of the console with one of her crossed legs.

"Why do you wear that contraption?" had come a mumble from the cockpit.

Her foot hooked onto the edge of the console and tipped her seat back at a crooked angle. "This?" she asked, gesturing to the neckline of her enviro-suit where her necklace lay.

Jaal Ama Darav shook his head. "No, your armour. I've never seen anything quite like it."

"And you will not ever I think, not in this lifetime at least. It's complicated and I would rather not talk about it, if that is alright."

"Ah, of course. My apologies."

Taking a module she had found in the storage section of her shuttle from the console, she began to fumble with the mechanism's peculiar locks and buttons, hoping that there was some part of it that unlocked its secrets. She had spent the majority of her time scanning it with her omni-tool, then when no sufficient data surfaced, she snatched a screwdriver from a walled toolkit and tried to pry it open.

When everything else failed, she had decided to leave it for a while, until another idea came to mind. It should have kept her busy for sometime, but when in the present company that she was in, she really should have expected the question that was soon asked.

"I don't believe you ever told me your name?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, glancing up into the window and spying the angaran's violet reflection in the surface. He was sat in the cockpit, large legs braced out across the floor with his rifle clutched in his hands. Yet it was his eyes that captivated her, deep and blue and dilated in such a timid curiosity that clearly begged to be satisfied.

"No, I didn't."

Outwardly confused, the angaran frowned down at his weapon. "I… Do your species not have names?"

"We have names, Jaal Ama Darav, I'm just unsure on whether to tell you mine."

"I believe you did promise me your name, or was that a lie, hmm?"

The quarian paused in her fumbling and swivelled her chair around until she faced him. "I never promised," she said, rolling the titanium cylinder around in her hands. "I teased that I might tell you my name if you returned. But if it means that much to you, you may call me Iyali'Talaas. Iyali'Talaas vas Messenger."

Jaal's angled face twitched. His mouth quickly scrunched into an uneven line as he attempted to pronounce the foreign words. "Iya… las von Messenger."

The quarian brought her hand to her breathing apparatus, muffling the laugh that followed.

The angaran's crown, however, crinkled along the thin bridge of his nose. "Did I say it wrong?"

"You said von."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand."

Iyali'Talaas' white eyes lit in merriment and she leisurely pointed to the lower half of her abdomen, "The word you said, 'von,' holds a different meaning in my culture's language than 'vas' does. Quarian names are a joining of two parts, the second being the home-ship the quarian is apart of and the first being the chosen name given unto them by a parent or guardian. My official name is Iyali'Talaas, 'vas Messenger' in a loose translation means 'crew of the Messenger.' Therefore my name means, 'Iyali'Talaas of the crew of Messenger."

"And von is different?"

"Entirely, Jaal Ama Darav. Von translates to 'one who has a weak bladder,' which can either be concerning or amusing. Therefore, in the context of my name, you basically stated that I had a weak bladder when on the Messenger."

Jaal's eyes rounded. "Ah, incredible. But… what is a bladder?"

The quarian's mouth opened and closed. She had to remember that he was different, and the lack of understanding with what that word meant either meant that he did not have one or that there was a mishap with her translator. Instead of deciding to press the issue, which may have resulted in their conversation inevitably ending, she decided to try a different tactic.

She spied the oddly mold-coloured weapon in his hands and the peculiar ghoulish glint it gave when lifted into the cockpit's shady light. The angaran's left thumb and fingers held the barrel rather perfectly, but something about it sent a chill down her spine, as if the energy encased within had been spoiled.

Despite her instinct, she leaned forward in her seat. "What kind of weapon is that?"

"This? It was a Kett weapon," he said rather proudly, raising it high enough for her to marvel. "But now it is mine."

The barrel was long to the snout, covered in thin, jagged spines the size of hairs on the skin and fixed to the remainder of the rifle by a circular case of amber energy, coiling around a silver thimble. A faint buzz circled the air around it, causing her sound processors to pick up on the resonating static.

Feeling her inner biotics react to the energy, causing her fingers to twitch in her lap, Iyali'Talaas gave in to her desire and shuffled away from it.

But there was no doubt. The species that created that weapon were highly advanced. Perhaps more advanced than the technological breakthroughs formed in the Milky Way.

"Malseh said your people are in a war with a species labelled as Kett. Apparently, they are the ones that chased us through the skies and onto your world. Who are they? Where did they come from? I'm guessing they haven't always been here, unless your people are the invaders."

"The angara are not invaders. We lived peacefully in Heleus until they entered our airspace over a century ago. Few remember the days before the attacks, and for most of us, fighting the Kett is all we have ever known."

"So, you don't know anything about them?"

"We know enough." He watched his rifle rather cautiously, and the grim expressions that passed his face made her wonder what memories he had with the Kett to cause such hatred. "Our experience with the Kett makes us naturally distrustful of all aliens."

"Then how come you're with Syrus and I?" she asked, reclining in her chair. "If you thought we were a threat, why did you fight for us?"

"Because I have to believe there are aliens out there better than the Kett. When the leader of the Kett came to Heleus, he demolished our sovereign state, took what he wanted as if it was nothing, as if we were nothing. Now, the Kett mercilessly abduct angara. Often we never see our loved ones again."

Snarling into his shoulder, Jaal leaped to his feet and began to pace rather quickly around the cockpit, leaving his rifle discarded on the floor and clenching his fists by his sides. "That's why the Resistance fights them everyday with everything we can. We have little choice. Either we fight, or we die."

Iyali'Talaas quietly placed her titanium contraption on the ground and rose to meet Jaal. She observed him closely for a time, specifically when he braced his left arm along the wall and rested his brow against the cold metal. His chest rose and fell like the tides of the sea, his heavy breaths frosted the air and rivalled the howling of the wind, but the quarian could feel the emotion he poured out into the space between them, and felt a sympathy she had not felt in a very long time.

"It could be attrition," she suggested calmly, swiping a hand across her omni-tool and highlighting several historical holograms over her wrist. "A ploy to weaken your forces. I've read about war tactics in a couple of historical logs. It's quite a fascinating read. These might help your people understand the Kett a little better."

Smiling at her generosity, Jaal raised his hand and lowered her arm. "It doesn't matter what the cause of this war is," said he as the omni-tool seeped back into her arm, "only that they're taking my people. I'm giving you a chance to prove that your people are not like them. I hope I don't come to regret it."

Iyali'Talaas shrugged, snatching the screwdriver and titanium contraption from the floor and tweaking the screws around the centre hinges. "Only the future can tell what our positions will be, I suppose, if Syrus and I manage to get off this planet."

"Do you truly not know how to mend your own ship?"

Cursing when the screwdriver slipped off the surface of the cylinder, Iyali'Talaas ringed her shoulders back and hit the cursed thing with the tool's keen point. "This technology is different to what I'm used to, Jaal Ama Darav. It is newer, more advanced than the scrap heap I managed to keep adrift over the years. Once you've pulled your ship apart and put it back together, you know what types of metals you can melt down to make new parts, what everyday appliances you could use to keep the ventilation system from rattling every half-hour. Did you know I managed to mend the hull of the Messenger Mark I with just a decade-old welding gun, some overpriced copper filling and a mile-wide supply of paperweights? But this-" she lifted the cylinder up, irritated that her act of aggression hadn't even made a dent, "this little conniving beauty, was probably crafted with more care and precision than a K-49 power core was back on Omega. Keelah, it isn't even half-rusted."

"May I, uh, see it a moment?"

"If you wish," she said, leisurely throwing it in his direction. "It's yours."

Surprisingly, Jaal caught the contraption rather quickly, and even more surprising, he did not take one look at it and throw it into the shadows. Instead, he cupped the cylinder in his palms as if a divine tool hand-crafted by the gods, marveling the gleam of its finish and the tiny indentations of its manufacturer's label.

Fiddling with it for many moments, it did not take long for the angaran to figure out the contraption's secret and twist it open with a light pop.

He slipped his hand inside and picked from the confines a long, thin bulb, held in an iron vase. "What is this?"

Taking the bulb from him and looking it over, Iyali'Talaas noticed the Nexus' trademark engraved over the base and then saw a tiny antenna fixed into the centre of the bulb. Around the antenna was a reflective surface and many entangled wires reached into the bulb's cover. "It's a beacon," she said, taking the original casing and slipping the beacon back inside, "for emergencies so the Nexus can find us."

Jaal frowned when she slipped the beacon into one of the lockers, not fully understanding why she hadn't activated it earlier. "Don't you wish your people to find you?"

"No. Syrus and I won't benefit from their company, and I doubt your people would want more aliens outstaying their welcome."

He gave a thoughtful nod. "I see."

"How did you figure out how to open that, anyway? You seem to have a skill for it. Were you a treasure-seeker in a past life?"

The angaran chuckled. "Not quite."

Both species quietly sat down around the lantern-light, realising for the first time that night that the rain had cleared and that from the windows was a sky of deep azure, alight in starlight.

Jaal cleared his throat, "Well, I-I like to tinker. To take things apart and figure them out."

"Tinker, huh? How good are you at tinkering, Jaal?"

He motioned to his weapon. "When I was given this weapon, I took it apart piece by piece. Then, once I had figured out its basic components, I put it back together. After a while I added my own modifications, enhanced its capabilities, made some… err… small calibrations and now it is one of the most powerful weapons in the Resistance. Needless to say, I am quite capable."

"Interesting, then perhaps you can do the same with the Messenger Mark II. If there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that space ships and energy weapons have similar, if not identical, schematic bases. Each have an outer casing, each have core components needed to be put correctly in order to function. I do not think you will have much trouble repairing this."

Jaal looked skeptical, hugging his rifle closer to himself. "And why should I help you?"

"The quicker you help us the sooner we will leave angaran space?"

"Tempting."

"You get to be the first of your people to pull apart a shuttle from the Milky Way and possibly get an advantage."

"You are giving away a chance for me to obtain leverage over your own people. Why?"

Sighing, Iyali'Talaas rubbed the edge of her helmet and tried to numb the pain of having to explain her reasoning once more. "I am being honest with you. I don't know how to fix my ship. I've mended all the parts that I can, welded the ruptures in the hull and returned the missing panels to their places but everything else is all new to me. I'm a pilot, a navigator, an explorer, not an engineer. Show to me a piece of a lost civilised culture, a relic or underground vault never been seen before. I have experience in that field, but this... this... without help, the Messenger Mark II is never going to fly again, and you'll have no choice but to guard me for the rest of your life."

"The technology of this ship also far surpasses the junkers I used to fly. This shuttle-craft is new, barely used. Need a part patched with scrap metal? That I can do. But this, this place, it took you mere moments to figure out what that cyclinder was. It took me an hour just to find a screwdriver. And Syrus-" She looked over to his slumbering form, half disappointed that his snoring had not ceased through the entirely of her and Jaal's conversation, and half embarrassed in the fact that his drooling had also not ended, now creating a thick, slow-dripping waterfall from his mouth to his shoulder. "Keelah, Syrus is as useless as a geth in water. Please, I need your help."

Iyali'Talaas counted the time it took the angaran to come to a decision in heartbeats: twenty it took in total, and still, the glare of pure uncertainty in his gaze made her wonder if her plea was truly for naught. It was not often she would ask for aid, but she was not vain enough to not ask when she knew she needed it.

Raising himself from the floor, glancing out of the window, it was a while before he finally turned to her with a less than satisfied frown on his face, "I suppose honesty would be a start…" he finally said, smiling softly. "Allow me to think this over. I will give you a decision by morning."

"Of course. You can take your time. There's no need to be hasty, especially if the Kett are still in the skies."

"Thank you. That is… very understanding. That's enough questions, until we've established a better trust with each other."

"Of course, Jaal Ama Darav. It might be nice," she smiled beneath her visor, catching the necklace around her neck and rubbing it with her thumb, "getting to know you better."


	8. A Foe Unknown

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Eight A Foe Unknown

Far in the distance on a long curved trajectory across the skies, a satellite plummeted, decelerating through the condensed silver film of the atmosphere, and slowing on its rough descent towards the great forested undergrowth that inhabited the land.

From the ground, observing the descending debris on a small array of boulders was Iyali'Talaas, adjusting the accuracy of her binoculars with several clicks of her fingers until she could just about see the form of the satellite. Or what was believed to be a satellite. In truth, the space-debris was too twisted to be mere meteorite and too in control of its plummet to be natural. It was a craft that alternated its wings to find a steady balance in its war with the gravitational force of Aya. Jet fumes had scarred the sky from its rear in thick, acrid lines of smoulder, and flames of golden amber donned the front point. To many it would seem that the craft had been hit while in the outer layers of the atmosphere considering the way it flew, but a subtle wariness curled knots into the pit of the quarian's stomach when she saw the outer mossy exterior of the ship, along with the lack of puncture wounds on its bonnet. She had a few doubts about the ship's trauma.

"Is it a ship?" Syrus asked, nestled into the alcove of a heavily splintered specimen similar to sycamore, crouched halfway up its trunk with his rifle's scope angled to the falling shuttle-craft.

"Whatever it is," said Jaal, carefully treading into the quarian's shadow; weapon half raised, "it isn't angaran."

"Could be Nexus."

"Do more of your people know your location?"

Removing his eye from his scope, the sunlight glinting in the side of his glasses, the turian took one glance at Jaal and quickly raised his shoulders. "Anything is possible with those guys, but I highly doubt they would know our position. Neither of you switched the beacons on and Aya wasn't on any of the maps we borrowed from them. Not to mention it was by pure chance that we ended up here. The Scourge," he said, pointing to the darker shades of sky over the crest of trees, "seems to protect the entirety of your planet, flat-crown. A good, stable defense."

"But not stable enough," whispered Iyali'Talaas, taking the binoculars away from her visor and stuffing it in the canvas pack hung on a low oaken branch. Strapping it over one shoulder and leaping from the rock, she landed feet first onto the ground and lifted herself to full height. "Guess it means we might as well see where it's going to land."

"But, kid, if it isn't Nexus and it isn't angaran, then you know what that means."

"Of course I do, Syrus," she smiled, eagerly shuffling her feet in the long veld. "Perhaps we should be neighbourly and pay them a visit. I, after all, would like to know who they are and what threat they pose to us."

"Not sure that's wisest choice you've made lately."

Twisting to see the turian latching onto the sycamore's rind, rifle on his back and clawing his way down, Iyali'Talaas raised her hand to the trail of smoke above and stepped in that direction. "Where is your sense of adventure, Vitarian? We didn't cross the expanse of dark space to not venture out into uncharted stars."

"New worlds I can get behind, but there's no need to start a war, kid," he muttered, stepping over to her and catching her arm in a firm grip. "Remember, we don't owe these aliens anything, understand? You don't need to add their pity to your conscience just because they're losing a war."

She sighed and tugged her arm free. "Stay if you would like to, Syrus. I would rather have you with me, though, if you would care to reconsider?" The quarian glanced over to Jaal who seemed rather amused by their banter. "What about you, Jaal? Will you be joining me?"

The angaran choked. "W-why I believe it would be… foolish to let you go without an escort. The forest can be deadly, after all."

"And we wouldn't want to leave you without such fine company. What say you, Vitarian? Are you sure I cannot sway your mind? We may end up returning with more than we leave with, if that takes your fancy."

The turian thought a moment, then smiled. "Well, if you put it that way, I suppose it couldn't hurt to take a gander."

"Good. We better gather a few supplies in case our neighbours have a similar idea and find this place."

After cloaking the Messenger Mark II in layer upon layer of shriveled vine, ample fern and black earth, the three companions started out into uncharted territory, following the rise of smoke skyward far into the deepest depths of the forest. Over the hours of their wander the grove grew further and further distant, the natural verdure condensed with the smaller shrubs surrendering to the colossal girth of grander flora. Walls of bracken, burdened by vast rose petals containing tiny translucent quartz, and wild thickets tamed by the vibrant wings of silver-shelled beetles, seemed to close in around them, the cover of their canopy muting daylight, though the view in the undergrowth was far from dark. Jaal slipped through the land so mutely that one slip of a gaze would render him gone. His body was fluent, scarcely touching any of the thicket except for those leaves that were too brash and thick to pass through. The new side to the angaran was a surprise to Iyali'Talaas. He was proud and baring when in the company of his kin, yet sly and graceful when on the pursuit, his blue eyes dilated and face twitching to any foreign sound. He probably knew every type of creature within the forest. She supposed such caution was needed when his people were the ones that were initially hunted. It was the subject of Darwinism after all, evolution at its finest. His people adapted to know their environment, to no longer be the runt in the food chain, to be coordinated in their plans and precise in their actions. Much unlike her own race who had once been on the highest end of the evolutionary scale for their planet, only for their carelessness to result in their downfall.

They followed the trail south, constantly watching the skies for any change in the shuttle's course. But there was none. It continued in along a ruefully planned route, passing through a long, narrow gorge where rivers and waterfalls intertwined to steeper cliffs stark of woodland. By late afternoon the company found themselves on the edge of a cliff where far into the valley, the crests of trees had been singed down to the bone, shattered along the lengths; branches lost or broken. From the shadows were daylight did not appear to pierce so bright, smoke had risen from the ashes.

The quarian took a moment to take in her surroundings. The forest, though familiar and foreign, was breathtaking, the view of the lakes over the cliff face reminding her of glacial lochs on Illium, and the flock of flying wings in the distance reminding her of the creatures she had disturbed when trespassing through ancient groves in her younger years, searching for buried relics or space-debris that could have once been Prothean. The ridged line of the mountains cupping the land like a splintered cocoon, framing the curve of waterfalls into the abyss below the cliff were equally imposing, most unlike the spiralling branches of grey trunks and smaller ferns that raised along their edges. Creatures pierced the black and green with little thought, inspecting and accepting the newcomers through their world. And yet, despite the sounds so alike birds, the rustling of the canopy in the wind and the rumbling of the water over the rocks, she found her mind pivoting towards the crash sight. She had time to explore the forest in depth, but the mysteries of the landed shuttle were only for a few hours.

Following a river of fast flowing water down the mountainside, it was not long before the company found themselves on the outskirts of the crash sight. Ahead they could hear the mutters of an outlandish language, breathy and bitter in utterance, as if the accent was chewed and spat from the mouth. Crouched behind a fern and spying through her binoculars, Iyali'Talaas searched through the undergrowth using a semi-vibrant rusted setting. The electronics within the device instantly pinpointed various mobile shapes, highlighting them with four angled corners. Through the lenses she saw lifeforms that were bi-symmetrical: harnessing two arms, two legs, mostly similar proportions to the quarian, using them to search through the wreckage of an angular ship, much like a mangled seed pod in appearance. The entirety of their outer form seemed to be a mixture of hardened flesh and inflated bone, suggesting extensive muscle mass.

She frowned slightly. She had hoped for a more peculiar looking species, perhaps with three tails and several antenna. Interestingly, she had hoped to spy some variety of super advanced hanar. Those floating marine bells had always been a favourite species of hers, though the likelihood of witnessing another species like theirs was probably a trillion to one.

In the distance, a few more bone-men had appeared, holding their arms over their chests with what the quarian supposed was some sort of weapon, though her view was very hazy. No matter how she adjusted the settings on her device, attempting to concentre and obtain a reading, the image remained unclear.

She crouched further into the fern and passed her binoculars to Jaal. "Hold them to your eyes and have a look. Can you identify what they are?"

Jaal took the foreign optical instrument with careful hands, eying the bulk rim of it first before peeking through the lenses. It was not long before the corners of his mouth curled back. Then, his fangs bared. "What are they doing so close to Aya?!"

"Do you know what they are?"

"Yes," he replied in disdain, returning the binoculars to her. "They are Kett. I don't understand how the Resistance could allow them to get this far."

After returning the device to her pack, she readjusted the straps and passed it over to Syrus.

Jaal pointed to the left hand side of the clearing where two of the bone men had stood. "The group here is small. If we act now, we can take them by surprise. It'll make fighting them easier."

Syrus took the rifle from his back and positioned the barrel under his shoulder. After checking that he had sufficient rounds for an attack, he clipped the edge of his glasses and picked one of the kett out from beneath a cluster of several entangled vines. Moss draped the area like barriers, closing the kett off from the remainder of its group. "I'm locked and loaded," he issued via her comms link. His voice instantly resonated through her necklace, straight into her sound preceptors. "Waiting for your signal, kid."

Iyali'Talaas raised her hand to her neck and tuned her communications link off. "Hold a moment. Maybe we shouldn't act so rashly."

He frowned at the static, removing his sound-piece. "Uh, kid?"

The quarian gazed over the line of foliage to the crashed shuttle. An idea came to mind. "Stay here. I want to get a closer look."

Knowing he had better luck in preventing a solar flare erupting than convincing her to stay, Syrus changed the position of his arms so the snout of his rifle could easily be adjusted. "If that's what you want, kid, but keep close to the trees. You see how close those things are to each other and how they move towards anything that makes a sound? I'm not a betting man but I'd wager they don't have the best eyesight for miles around, understand? That's their weakness. Keep close to the shadows and you should do just fine. But if you run into trouble, I'll watch your back."

Iyali'Talaas gave a careful nod before sliding her hand over the curve of her hip, ensuring that her pistol was snug in its holster, the safety mechanism switched off, and that her ammunition was firmly seated in her satchel. She then passed her palm down to the groove in her boot and angled it out, plucking a silver hilt from the hidden sheathe before returning the blade to its place. She inhaled an unsteady breath and took a step forward.

A great, webbed hand grasped her shoulder and yanked her back. "What are you doing?"

Fighting the urge to defend herself, the quarian pulled her shoulder free from the angaran and kept her voice low. "We'll be better prepared with further intel. Those things, the kett, landed here for a reason. We aren't sure if more are coming or how well armed they are. Unlike you, Syrus and I haven't had any battle experience with them. I need to know specifics if we are to stand a chance in a fight."

'And your people could be the immoral party in this war,' she refrained from saying.

To her surprise, Jaal looked rather impressed. "In that case, I will go with you."

"No!" she hissed, waving her hands. "You stay here. Keep Syrus safe, he's prone to trouble."

"Smart ass," her friend muttered through her comms link.

Jaal Ama Darav still did not look overly satisfied, mumbling beneath his lips until he finally said his thoughts. "If you go, I can't guarantee that I can cover you effectively."

"It's sweet of you to worry, Jaal Ama Darav, but this isn't my first time doing this. Just wait here until I return." As she turned and began to crouch, then crawl from the clearing, she gave one final wave of her hand before the shadows of the forest consumed the colour of her enviro-suit, and the line of her form.

Slapping the earth beneath his knees, scope trained on his partner's every move, Syrus gestured Jaal to his side and gave a gentle nod at the kett's direction. "Don't you worry your pretty little flat-crown. She knows what she's doing."

The angaran glanced into the thickest of the thicket, features heavily contorted, eyes growing misty. "Hmm. I can't tell whether she is brave or foolish."

"Hah. Trust me, if there is one thing that quarian is," Syrus smirked, honing his sights onto an area of veld where the ends of the tallest reeds gently swayed, "its never foolish. Prideful? Maybe. More stubborn than a varren with a bone, Spirit's yes! But foolish? Many felons have fallen for that mistake."

"And you and her, you are close?"

The turian blinked. "I'll… uh, I'll let her be the one to answer that."

Jaal looked slightly abashed. "I was only curious."

"Sure you were, and you know what the humans say about curiosity and the cat, huh?"

"No? I- what do they say?"

Syrus groaned, clutching his brow-plate with a claw. "Spirits, this was a bad idea."

Far from where her company lay in waiting, the quarian attempted to quietly pass through a braided bed of reedgrass, far taller than any wheat field or mountain meadow. Crunching, rustling, snapping beneath her knees, piercing the parting of her fingers and thumb, part of her wondered if the kett had already heard her, for she surely could not have been quiet. Stealth had always been a strong suit, but when compressed by thin stalks that did not wish to remain in place or allow her entry without struggle, she doubted even a trained spectre could pass through undetected. At least if the kett had heard her trespassing, the likelihood of them finding her were as remote as her finding them. She relied solely on her eyes on the exterior of the valley to guide her safely through, his voice a beacon through her comms, though riddled with unneeded snark.

As she crawled the earth turned from dusty ground to mild mire, the wetter land falling to marshland, while the mud drowned the entirety of her legs. She cast a squint skyward where from above a grand round section of the canopy had been taken in the crash, resulting in sunlight crossing over the reeds, streaking lines over her mud-ridden form.

"Take a turn on your left, kid. You're in luck. There don't seem to be any kett near your position and you seem to be coming up around the back of the shuttle. Remember, if you get into any trouble, just holler. We'll come running," her necklace vibrated, static clearing the air when the transmission ended.

Iyali'Talaas rubbed the flecks of dirt from her visor and parted the reeds from her helmet. Searching the valley for movement, she quickly left the safety of the reeds and crept over to the dented wall of the crashed space-craft. The nose of it was embedded far into the mire, throwing her theory of the kett feigning distress out of possibility. Surprisingly, moss and algae clung to the craft's skin as if it had been there for months, creating a kind of frayed webbing that seemed to only attract swarms of flies. Placing a hand to her breathing apparatus, she was partly thankful that her enviro-suit lacked the ability to smell.

Over the shuttle, murmurs of the outlandish language were apparent. The mire rippled across the shuttle as they walked, shimmering the reflected daylight. Using the water from the side of the shuttle, Iyali'Talaas could see undulated shadows crossing one another while the sound of their splashing disturbed the tiny, black eels that swam in the mire's bay. Grasping the shuttle's wall, she dared to peer slightly outward and caught one of the kett crouching over a rickety crate that could be presumed to be precious cargo.

Yet it was not the crate she observed but the alien. They truly were bone-men, faces flat in the centre, pocketed on the outer layers. Their mouths were down-curved in a way that suggested an undefined depression, while their limbs were attached by rippled patches of taunt sinew - their skin waxy and sable, with their entire body of muscle extensions were tightly tucked into a shell of moldy metal.

For some time she watched them, unhurried and utterly fascinated. The way they spoke through their mouths, teeth clattering on every vocal grunt and tongue pronouncing syllables in such a familiar way, made it difficult to define them as alien, just like it had been with the angara. With the use of the Initiative's translator and the aid of the angara's previous experience with the outcasts of the Andromeda Initiative, within a matter of moments they were able to communicate, cross barriers that to the kett may never be possible. It was strange to think that in the last couple of days she had been witness to two completely unrelated species within the same cluster that happened to be sentient. Her dreams had never encompassed such possibilities.

That was when the crouched kett brought something from the crate, a hand-held device that seemed rather like a remote control. The quarian stepped further out, noticing the strange illuminated engravings on the remote's side and the lopsided antenna sticking from its spout.

'Perhaps it was some sort of shield or explosive,' she thought, 'or perhaps some sort of weapon. If I had made it onto my enemy's world, I would bring something that could disable their defenses.'

Obviously their crash was feigned after all.

That was when one of the kett turned her way. Stifling a gasp, she quickly leaped back behind the alien shuttle and swam to its other side. When a shadow consumed the water and the ripples on the shuttle's end grew short, she turned another corner and pressed her back against the wall. The sound of lashing water ended and she could see the kett's reflection still. The kett looked out to the forest, beady eyes squinting through the meshes of green and amber colouring. It only confirmed Syrus' speculation.

Sensing it was her time to leave, she tried to crawl back over to the bed of reeds. Yet, before she had even managed to take a small step out, a strong pressure grabbed her shawl and yanked her from the water. Her back instantly collided into the alien shuttle, hands grasping for purchase along the wall before latching onto the kett's strong arms. While unable to cease her struggle, the kett dropped one hand from her shoulder and blocked the airway from her neck. The quarian's body instantly felt like dead weight to her enviro-suit, the tender metal covering her neck cracking under the strain of the kett's strong hand. And so her feet dangled from the water and her hands held tightly onto the kett's arm. Her enviro-suit tried to steady her breathing, pumping air into her helmet and dispelling any exhale through its ports. Yet gasp she did, again and again, despite her enviro-suit's tries to aid its host's flailing. She could barely breath, gasping in long, shallow breaths as if she was drowning. Her body shook under the affects.

The kett, however, uncaring to the state of its prey, seemed rather interested by her, leaning in close and sniffing the space around her. It then withdrew its head when the quarian had relaxed a little in its hold, turning its massive bone head to the lights within her helmet. The white lights blinked under the violet mist of her visor, and Iyali'Talaas half-wondered if closing her white eyes would make the kett think she had died. But then the added pressure to her neck coursed chills through her anew. She threw her legs out, kicking against the alien's hardened carapace, but a ripple of a hum jolted through the kett and it was when the quarian glanced up that she realised: he was laughing.

It only took a moment for her vision to grow hazy and for the two white lights of her eyes to dim within her visor. The kett watched the mist grow thicker within the glass, and the quarian could feel the erratic beats of her pulse in her ears, gradually become slow and weak. Cursing, she dropped one hand and frantically felt the side of her thigh, grasping the fabric of her holster and fumbling with the button encasing the weapon.

Just as the kett did one final squeeze, hearing the last strangled inhale of its prey before her arms fell limp, its whole body jolted. From the forest another pang sounded through the air. The kett's shoulder wrenched again and again. Peering over the alien's shoulder, Iyali'Talaas could just make out the glint of something shiny in the distance. Then the bed of reeds across the valley began to rustle at an alarming rate, heading to their direction.

Growling under the aimed fire, twisting the quarian around like a rag doll, the kett instantly grunted at the third sound of a fire-bolt that punctured its frame, only to find the shot was closer to home. Vapour rose from its giant thigh. Iyali'Talaas squeezed the trigger again, sending another round into the kett's gnarled flesh. The blood of the alien pooled from the wound - green, thick, drooling. Five rounds had sounded through the valley and still the kett did not desist. Calling out to the skies, it effortlessly threw the quarian over the mire, the murk-riddled water instantly catching her flailing body.

Ignoring its prey, the kett dove into the assortments of its crate and pulled from the confines a very large, very cumbersome blaster. A strange type of energy could be felt churning within as power built at the tip of its coil. The reeds continued to dance, the body of movement inside unfaltering. Iyali'Talaas could feel the vibrations of the weapon react with her bio-electricity, causing her unsteady gaze to focus on the bed of reeds while she tried to catch her breath. The kett waited, watching the disturbed stalks for any hint into where the trespasser would spring from. Then, it took the shot. Instantaneously, amber sparks lit the field, peppering the reeds in tiny, microscopic pods of sharpened shrapnel encased in laser-like energy. Feathered wings flew from the trees, animals in the deeper parts of the undergrowth sprang from hiding. The field fell silent.

The kett rocked on its feet, twitching its head from side to side, waiting to catch ear of life. But there was none. Not even the wind dared to stir the leaves. There was no doubt in the kett's, nor anyone else's mind within the valley: whatever had disturbed the growth had been slain.

Iyali'Talaas slowly rose from the mire, straightening her back and locking her Equalizer VI on the kett. The kett, noticing her slow rise, swerved its entire body round to her. They shared stares, each sizing the other up. And then the creature dared to hum once more, its carapace rising and falling in twisted humour.

All of a sudden, a buzz of electricity thrummed through the air. The kett's body jolted and the lump of bone on the its brow puckered. Looking down at the hole in its chest, dropping its weapon and touching the soft, sensitive flesh intriguingly, it gazed out over to the bed of reeds where from the marsh stood Jaal Ama Darav, similar-energy buzzing through his locked rifle.

The kett fell to its knees, then after a groan, curled into the water.

Iyali'Talaas observed the angaran curiously before putting a hand on her hip. "I nearly had him you know."

He lifted his rifle high with one arm. "Perhaps," he chuckled. "You looked like you could use some help."

From the distance had come another shine of reflected light. She waved her hand out to Syrus, but stopped when the flash of light had come again. Just as she had begun to ponder of what that meant, she was pulled from where she stood and taken by Jaal behind the alien shuttle.

On the right hand side of the valley, waves begun to rock the water, followed by startled grunts and a stampede of splashing legs. It was only then that Iyali'Talaas realised that there were initially two kett next to the shuttle. When the battle fell sour, the other must have fled to regroup. Snatching energy cells from her satchel, slotting them into her pistol, she flipped the weapon out and peered round the corner of the shuttle wreck.

The aliens had rooted themselves in the thicker areas of marshland, enveloped in the cover of several familiar variants of sedge, ribbon weed and corroded tree trunk. Every once in a while, their heads would peek out, while others tried to maneuver to more secure areas without being seen. The young quarian raised her hand to Jaal, indicating that she was witness to three kett. When Jaal looked out, he nodded to confirm the number.

Falling back against the wall, Iyali'Talaas grasped her necklace and decreased the volume of her comms link. "Syrus, can you get a good read on them?"

"Sorry kid, bastards are too well covered to see. You're both going to have a better luck at shooting them than I am."

"Rodger that." She looked to Jaal. "Looks like we're on our own for this one."

Knowing there was little else they could do, both the angaran and the quarian waited for their most opportune moment, waiting for the kett to get just a little too confident or to peep just a little too far out from their place of cover. That was when they struck.

Firing in the precision and accuracy of trained survivors, both species laid an arsenal's worth of weapon fire upon the valley, poisoned on either side of the alien shuttle-craft delivering as much concentrated force as was necessary. Realising their cover was for naught the kett did not do what most species would do when outmatched, which was relent and spread, but instead hopped over their defenses and marched up to their attackers. Bodies twisted, shoulders jerked, legs folded, yet still they continued to drag themselves forward. It was unhindered, nearly blind determination. There must have been something they needed, something that they could not flee without.

And that was when Iyali'Talaas saw the remote half-pocketed into the dead kett's carapace. That remote must have been incredibly valuable to them, surely worth risking their life for. There was still the unknown mystery behind what it in fact was as well. If it was an explosive…

Knowing there was no time to spare, she holstered her pistol and yelled out to Jaal. "Cover me!"

The angaran had little time to process her words before a field of amber light sparked around her hands and cloaked every inch of her form. Feeling her biotic power surge through her very core, Iyali'Talaas darted from the safety of the alien shuttle and over to where the alien corpse still lay, face down in the mire. Her cloak of energy reflected the fire damage from the kett, whom had noticed her movements quite quickly, no longer focusing their sights on Jaal. As the perfect decoy the angaran had little trouble gaining the advantage in the opportunity, spying the weaknesses in the alien armour and flaying metal chunks off their skin. One gargled in blood on its way to the ground.

While the battle raged on, Iyali'Talaas slipped into the thick recesses of the water and fumbled over the dead kett's body, picking from the scaly armour a semi-moist panel. She firmed the device in her hand but a sudden weakness prevented her from moving with it. Beyond where she stood, the kett focused only on her. Every pelt against her power's bubble was in itself a needle prick into her skin: deadly, no, but definitely uncomfortable, and it weakened her resolve every time. Feeling the weight of the alien ordnance, her biotic shield began to dissipate, beyond her lack of control. Squeezing her hand into a fist, she curled her body in as her shield gradually shrunk, so much so that it became a finely lit glow over her enviro-suit's paneling. Then, all at once, the shield surged out. The sound of thunder wrecked the valley as the shield spread out, launching any organic life from its host's reach. Once it reached the surrounding reeds, however, the shield dispelled, vanishing from the world as if it was never truly present. The two remaining kett that were left standing were instantly propelled back. She wasn't sure if it was the impact her power had or the amount of bullets their persons had succumb to, but the kett never rose from where they landed.

Exhausted but not defeated, the young quarian fell to her knees, panting. In her hand lay the peculiar device and by her side, the one in four dead kett.

She sensed movement in the corner of her eye and drew her pistol, only to lower it when she saw Jaal wading across the water.

"What… what did I just see?" he asked, helping the quivering quarian to a stand while fumbling over his words, trying to find the correct description of his feelings. "Your body… I felt a power I have never felt before, raw and primal but also… beautiful. It was extraordinary. And the kett, well, I doubt they will stand again."

Feeling the drench of water weigh her enviro-suit down, Iyali'Talaas twisted the fabric of her shawl, ringing the water from the fabric. "It's a skill some of my people have. We call it biotics."

"Ah, bi-otics. I, what does it feel like? Does it hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not all the time. It depends on the situation and how much energy I use. That… that took a bit out of me."

Once the fabric was sufficiently dry, the quarian placed her hands over her knees and gave out a final, exhausted breath.

Unsure of what else to do, the angaran lightly pressed a hand to her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Are you alright?"

She gave a gentle nod, claiming the device she had found from the kett from her satchel. "I'll be fine. Just need a moment to catch my breath."

"Ah, of course. And I see your comrade made it here intact."

As if expected, Syrus strolled out from an entanglement of moss and reed, one arm balancing his rifle over his shoulder and the other picking the dry leaf and stalk from his armour plates. As he strolled, he took notice of the lifeless corpses dotting the mire, stopping by one and getting a close up view of its face. Curling his mandibles in disgust, the turian kicked the dead kett, muttering, "ugly bastard," before reuniting with his companions. He took one look at Iyali'Talaas and gave her a knowing pat on the back. "You did well, kid."

Beneath her visor she smiled, but there was time for pleasantries on a later date. As Syrus began riffling through the deceased, rummaging for supplies, Iyali'Talaas was left to contemplate on the device she had found, also on what to do with it. The kett, despite unknown odds, were willing to die for whatever it had been, which made it valuable. If it could be identified, it could in some way aid her and Syrus if they and the kett were to cross paths in the future. It could also be a ticking time bomb merely waiting for the right time to explode. There was also the chance that if she made it to Kadara, that there would be people willing to pay a couple of credits, or trade some wealthy stock for it. But then again, most importantly, she needed her shuttle fixed. The only way of getting that done was from Jaal, whom had been reluctant to aid in mending it. If she showed some good faith and handed him the device, plus if it somehow was valuable to his people, then that would at least show some sort of trust.

Knowing which road she would rather have chosen but also knowing that it was the most unreliable, the quarian quietly sighed, slumped her shoulders a little, and handed the device over to Jaal. "I found this in the hands of one of the kett. Those we caught seemed rather interested it in. I believe they were willing to die for it. It might be nothing, just an explosive or some sort of tactic to weaken your people's defenses but it might be valuable to your people. If it is, then you should have it."

Jaal gazed down at the offered device incredulously. "You would give this to me freely? Why?"

She shrugged. "You said it yourself, your people aren't ever likely to trust us, but that doesn't mean you might not trust us someday. Think of this as a gift, a gesture of good faith. Not to mention we just helped you in preventing a possible invasion. Now you know we're not with the kett."

Looking up from his place by a kett, knees deep in the water and claws half-embedded in material pockets, Syrus spoke his mind."Yeah, all that peaceful first-contact nonsense stopped when they dared to lay a finger on the kid. Spirits help them if they cross our paths again."

Gratitude, though small in gesture, resonated from the angaran man in waves that surprised Iyali'Talaas. Nodding to his companions, Jaal took a thin piece of thread from his own jumpsuit and tied the fabric around the handle of the device, allowing it to dangle from his belt. "Thank you. I will make sure the scientists in the Resistance get this. It may not seem like much, but this will help sway things in your favour. Perhaps I may take a look at your shuttle as well. It is the least I can do."

Drawing himself up after scavenging what he could, Syrus turned from the dots of bodies to the moss-covered shuttle craft, his eyes glistening in the treasures it could hold. He walked past his companions and wandered into the entrance-way of the ship. Whistling at the amount of blinking, vein-looking technology held inside, the turian braced himself against the door and pointed with a claw inside. "Also, in exchange we're going to be taking some of the stuff from the wreckage," said he, crossing his legs, "as a gesture of good faith.

Narrowing his eyes at first, Jaal was about to protest until he saw the lack of objection from their other party member. So, he rubbed the delicate violet folds of his scalp and gave in to the turian's wishes. "I suppose that is reasonable. You may take the salvage you need to mend your ship. Everything else belongs to the Resistance."

"And what about weapons?" asked Iyali'Talaas as she bent down to obtain a kett blaster from the water. Despite its size the blaster was relatively heavy as she weighed it in her hands. When she adjusted it along her shoulder and peered down its line of sight, she found that there seemed to be an optical enhancer attached to its muzzle, which appeared to have quite a few settings, primarily using infrared light. Being so close to the weapon, even while in its dormancy, sent an unsettled nervous tick through her body. She wanted to know what it was about the kett that upset the balance of her biotics so, in addition to why it inspired the need to flee.

Jaal noticed the fascination she had with the weapon, but also seemed to feel the wave of uneasiness that came when she held it. "I see no harm in it. Knowing that you too are an enemy of the kett, it is wise to get acquainted with their technology."

"Indeed," said Syrus, pockets clanking with who knew what inside. On his back was the quarian's pack, though what was peculiar about it was that it seemed rather packed when before the turian had entered the alien ship, it barely held enough materials to be considered light. Ignoring her judgemental gaze, he strolled past his two companions with barely any shame. "Just think, kid. The more kett we kill, the more alien tech we can sell to the Initiative. Wouldn't need to live a life of scavenging no more."

"You keep thinking that, Vitarian," she chuckled, fitting the kett blaster under her left arm.

For the remainder of the afternoon, the three companions took turns taking salvage from the crash sight. Once the original skin had been pried away from the wreckage, it was soon speculated that the alloys and metals that held the alien ship together could be used in patching some of the interior for the Messenger Mark II. Similarly, it seemed that Jaal's experience in kett technology was not limited to just weaponry. With the right tools and amount of time, he was sure that he could transfer some of the power output from the ship into the Messenger, while also calibrating some of the system modules. It seemed that despite the trauma they had been dealt, the fallen wreckage was in fact a blessing. The future once again looked hopeful for the young quarian and she could not help the wave of excitement that enveloped her when thinking about the next possibilities. Andromeda, after what she had seen, could very well hold more in the way of adventure that she could have ever hoped for.

Dusk had quickly settled across the vast expanse of Aya. Wet and exhausted, the small expedition crew were ready to return to the safe haven of their ship, readying for the return journey, when something had caught their eyes in the sky.

Similarly to the first anomaly that had fallen, a second satellite-type comet crossed the darker expanses of sky, plunging from the atmosphere and heading off into the distance. Snatching her binoculars from her pack and leaping onto the alien shuttle for height, Iyali'Talaas fumbled with the device's settings before glaring through the lenses.

Unlike when the kett ship had landed, the present ship that left the atmosphere was not as out of control in its descent, holding quite a substantial amount of skill in its flying capabilities. She pinpointed a more than capable engine from the back, a very large wingspan and realised that the craft, unlike others seen, was quite long at the body. The colours of the shuttle could not be quite seen but at following its gradual descent, as well as the smaller aerial crafts around it, Iyali'Talaas managed to pinpoint an insignia, half-branded in flare.

"What is it?" had asked Syrus from the ground. "More kett?"

"No," she whispered nervously, gradually dropping the binoculars from her visor and taking a cautious step back. "It's Nexus."


	9. Decision In War

**Vas Messenger**

Author Note: I've spent some time updating the previous chapters for this fanfic and I have decided to seperate some of the chapters to make the story itself more manageable, which is the reason why two extra chapters have been added. Sorry for any inconvenience. I also have a lot of studies to do for exams at the moment which is the reason why I haven't updated in a while. But I'm going to try and update this story with new chapters quite often. Until the next chapter, please enjoy chapter 9 :)

Chapter Nine: Decisions in War

They gathered in the port of their sanctuary, the natives to Heleus crowding around the city's gates in a swarm to observe the anomaly descending from their heavens, guided by their own fleet of interceptors to the rounded docking platforms edged by guardsman.

Many had not witnessed, nor heard of the first encounter with the Milky Way species. There were whispers on other worlds, of course, that rippled to any who would dare believe it. But on Aya, it was all conjecture passed on from family member to family member, with the truth quickly distorting from reality.

The Resistance had kept the truth a secret from their people, fearing what panic it would ensue to the local populace with war already rife in their hearts. More fear at an unknown neighbour could have been far too much to bare. But when another aircraft dared to enter their orbit, faster and larger in dimension than the previous, those in charge knew that there was no hiding the truth. And so the order was called once the pilots cornered the trespassing flight ship and directed it to a sectioned-off area of their city, away from the prying eyes of those dwelling within, at least to the best of their knowledge.

The great black wings of the anolomy flared in reflected sunlight upon first glance, seeming to many just a glint on the horizon, but it was not long until its great shadow loomed over the forests beneath the mountainside, growing into the formation of a souring black and white arrow.

Those guardsmen that had dealt with the first contact meeting were instantly assigned to the protection of the city, as the first defence if the aircraft proved hostile. And so, as per protocol, their rifles were checked, rechecked and aimed. When the aircraft finally hovered over the port's widest platform, they trained their sights onto the thrusters under the wings, stippling the flat metallic surface with vibrant laser-light.

Sand and dust were propelled through the air when the aircraft's under-thrusters steadied the body. The front and back legs gradually lowered from the fore-end and stern. The rendered engines whistled to a still. When gravity intervened the whole craft shook; the golden flare of the under-thrusters doused.

Time for many became distant, near unforgiving. The city's guards observed the alien vessel with undeterred attention, arms never wavering, voices never spoken. It took some time before any movement came from it. Some nervous souls suspected the shuttle to be some new type of kett war-machine, fearing the original aliens had been killed; their shuttle left to be fused with the inner mechanisms of an explosive ready to wipe them from their cluster.

An order was given over their comms link. Each guard dared to stride just a little further inward.

But then the cockpit under the craft begun to part. All angara directed their weapons to the entrance, where from the inside, a shadow did emerge, bringing forth the true first contact the natives had with the anomaly that was human.

…

It was late. The grove had been eerily still since the arrival of the new species to the planet. Iyali'Talaas was not sure whether the mute was a benefit or a poor test of affairs. But, in her wait she had managed to gain the trust of a small-boned avian that had perched its rigid claws onto a rotten stump, riddled in vibrant fungus and skittering beetles.

Oddly enough, the small creature of fluorescent feathers was fascinated in the taste of a golden-amber fruit she had gathered from a low-hung plant. It attempted to snatch it with its beak. After sometime the avian had suspected that the direct approach would not end in its favour and decided to attempt coyness, quirking its long, bloated neck back to the wreckage. The shimmer of the shuttle had caught its wandering eye, but one flourish of the fruit had snapped its focus straight back.

When Iyali'Talaas looked away, the avian, fully turned and wings aflare, thrust its beak out. Each time the quarian managed to shift her hand just out of reach, causing the avian to ruffle its feathers and play again. It truly was extraordinary.

Syrus, draped over one of the Messenger Mark II's crooked wings, observed the situation rather amusedly, flicking pebble after pebble into the clearing. "How long have we been waiting here, again?"

The quarian peered away from the creature for only a moment, rubbing the crown of her visor with a spare hand. "Keelah, I'm not quite sure, Syrus. Just like I wasn't sure when you last asked, and when you asked before that, then before that, and so on. I'm no seer. Why not cup the rocks you have in your claws and let fate decide what the answer may be? It might surprise you."

Slightly tempted, the turian regarded the colourful jagged stones with a tilt of his head, before returning to throwing them across the clearing, clicking his mandibles when one met water. "And the flat-crown still hasn't returned. He's probably at the mercy of the Nexus, believing all sorts about us. He may even head this way with the rest of his type to turn us in as traitors. We could keep this ruse up if it was just us, but he's with his people right now and-"

His stone hit the veld. His gaze narrowed. "My ancestors back plates, he's with the Nexus as well, kid! Once he finds out the truth, we can kiss our little shuttle-fixing squad goodbye."

"I doubt it. Remember, he has only just met the Nexus. Jaal Ama Darav has been with us for over five days by my last count, and we aided in his revolt against the kett. We handed to him a precious piece of kett technology. That shows our generosity, most importantly our trust. It's more likely that he will listen to what the Nexus have to say, then return to us, perhaps a little confused, but not likely to be hostile. We just need to keep calm and let matters be."

IyaliTalaas reached out with her spare hand, curling her fingers to timidly stroke the scaled chest of the avian. The lamina breastplate was grainy and hard, making the quarian wonder what the natural plating was for and why the scales only spread to the under-belly.

The creature, despite the contact, made no immediate response, merely continued to snap at the fruit until a splatter of juice poured from the skin, seeping into the quarian's shawl.

She drew back, sighing. "My _realk! Tuho!_ Should have known that would happen."

The turian hissed, flicking his forked tongue out to the air. "Forget your shawl, how you're so calm about all this, I sure as spirits don't know. Troubles right on our tail kid, can practically feel their eyes upon us, and when I get the sense we should be running for the nearest star, you either don't say nothing or damn near blame me! An ambush is coming, I feel it in my plates. Next ambush we have isn't my problem, you hear?"

She made no response, merely returned to pestering the avian, softly smelling of pickled mango juice. Syrus crinkled his short, snubbed nose at the scent. "What are you doing with that thing?"

"Observing."

"Why?"

"Remember that cratour we came across near Mars, back when we got the tip from ol' One-Eye about a prothean raid? We thought it abandoned, only to find it was inhabited by thousands of flying creatures that you swore were some sub-species of pyjack."

Syrus glanced down at his talons, nodding at the scars etched into his claws. "That I do, kid. Spirits, the buggers took off with my best bottle of horosk, damn scoundrels. No wonder we had no competition, damn winged-rats robbed them blind. But, you had the same twinkle in your visor that you have now."

She chuckled, raising the sloppy, mango-fruit slightly higher than the avian could reach. The creature clucked, stretching on its crooked hind legs and waving its four wings furiously. It followed her hand from left to right, its needy, black eyes dilated. A light spring added. to its step. It then rose to full height and snapped at the end of the quarian's finger.

Iyali'Talaas yelped, reeling her hand back while the avian dove for the splattered fruit peel. It fluttered off in a display of vibrant plumage, crowing its triumph to all within the forest.

The quarian cradled her swollen finger, cursing, "That sneaky little-"

"Ay now, you deserved it, tormenting the flying rat."

"I was curious," she sighed. "It was cute, in a vicious, conniving little way. I never expected it to bite me."

"And now you know not to touch the exotic wildlife, kid," he said, scratching the crevices behind his neck, "not that you ever learn, but we really do need to find the flat-crown before we lose more than just fruit."

She scoffed. "Like our heads?"

"Not if I can help it. Spent too long growing my plates out, wouldn't want to go and die when there are plenty of females begging for a piece, you dig?"

Iyali'Talaas stilled a moment, fearing her imagination would play to his advantage. For the briefest, dwindling heartbeat, she envisioned what truly had her shuddering beneath her enviro-suit. "I truly did not need that image. You're far too old to be thinking of females. I'm still young and don't need to be put off by cranky old turians who don't know how to keep their perverted thoughts to themselves, thank you."

"But the city awaits," she added before he could interrupt, powering her omni-tool and observing the display of colour over her wrist. Pinching the area with her wounded finger and thumb, the screen widened to the length of her arm, lighting the entirety of the forest within its vision in inferred.

After a few momentary calibrations the lighting differed, displaying whites and greens with rose-red footprints rising from the earth. "The scan you did of our angara seemed to work. The prints are relatively fresh. We can trace his steps back to find where his people have been hiding."

"Or find his corpse in a cave somewhere."

"You better hope that's not true. We've not long. It's tricky to use this setting at nightfall."

Hauling his rifle from the shuttle wing and setting it over one shoulder, Syrus threw his duffle bag of supplies to her feet, then walked to her side. "So, how are we going to do this? We can't just wander up to the empire of the flat-crowns and beg them to let us in, can we? No, that would be suicide and we just agreed to keep me alive. So, what are our options? Tactical strike from the sky? Dash through the fens naked to spook the locals?"

"That's one way to scar the angara. The thought alone is enough of a terror."

She jolted at his shove, missing it entirely. "If you're done, Horaion, I have a plan. If we follow these tracks, we're sure to find the angaran city before nightfall. Then, we come up with a plan once we reach the border."

"Sounds good, though I preferred the heroic dashing. More my style, but you're the boss. Lead the way."

Together they followed the tracks east, trudging through the undergrowth towards the distant haze of rocky land and hillsides crowning the treetops. The journey was not as long nor as tedious as either of them had anticipated, and though the land gradually grew steep, the forest had followed it, rising twice as high.

Yet through the entirety of their walk, the quarian's mind remained preoccupied on what lay ahead, on how the angara would act if they saw them and alternatively, how to not be seen.

If the city on Aya was as grand as she believed it to be, then watchers would have been set up along the outer perimeters for sure. If they could make it to some part of the territory unnoticed, then they stood a chance. If not, then she and Syrus would have had no choice but to rely on the angara justice system to judge their trespassing, for she doubted Jaal Ama Darav's initial threat of crossing the border was a lie.

The trail eventually fell cold. The once red marks on the earth faded with each mile passed until the leaves claimed it entirely. But, where their devices failed, their instincts keened. Prints marked were the soil had soaked up the latest rainfall, deep and hoof-like. The lower, thinner branches of the shrubbery had snapped away and the distant flutter of startled avians gave way to their next trajectory.

The sun eventually passed west and disappeared, marking another day they had spent on a still foreign planet. Dusk settled into nightfall, grey consumed the skies, wild adhi prowled the undergrowth, seen only by the occasional golden shimmer of a leonine eye or the quiver of reeds, brushed by their flat tails.

Winged reptiles clung to the shadows and glided across the canopies and curled into the leaves to stare at all that was below them. Yet in the mountains, the silence was pervasive, deep, unbroken even by the screech of nature in the depths of the valley they had come from.

A twisted cairn heralded the entrance to a steep escarpment, with long slabs climbing its body, carved at first from living rock and later by rusted metal rising to higher platforms, while small rivers fell in rivulets from the cliffs.

Two sentinels loomed over the path, intimidating those wary with their shadow, demanding respect from those whom offered little fear. They were ancient, tribal, withered monuments of time resembling the body of man and the head of a bull; ivory tusks thrusting from the jawbone.

Iyali'Talaas slowed in her journey when passing them, observing the fine detail that had not been fully corroded. The statues bore a likeness to the angara, only further broad-shouldered, dressed in fine cloth and carrying teardrop shields and arrow-tipped spears. Small vazes decorated the pedestals and there were emblems lain across their toes, etched in a language her translator could not decipher.

She wondered if it was some ancient angara dialect, or perhaps a distant variant that the Initiative had not come into contact with. She took a capture with her omni-tool, storing the file in her data log before setting out.

The land became a scene of green rippled with blues that eventually fell into the horizon and beyond, perhaps to the very edge of the world, if it was to be believed. Yet as the reaches of the forest thinned from the slope, clearing the majority of the area around, it became apparent that there was a lack of wild creatures on the way to the summit. Though, the answer was soon discovered.

A people resided in the mountains just as a variant of reptile claimed the trees. Iyali'Talaas was sure it was the angara. She could feel it in her bones.

By the end of the incline the earth had levelled, leading to a long ledge surrounded by a natural verdure. Walls rounded the end of the path where under the fresh haven of a copse, a steel platform lay shrouded in great, fraying leaves and damp stone spotted with moss, and above that, a great iridescent door stood tall, carved into the thick crevices of the mountain wall.

What intrigued Iyali'Talaas was that it was manned by only two guardsman, clad in thick, emerald armour plates and ashen leathers, reminding her of two-legged insects. When she peered through her binoculars, however, she found a third member - a female, angara in race, but familiar.

Syrus crept on his knees to her side and parted the leaves with his claws to peer through. "See anything interesting?"

Her sights shifted to the door. There were no panels or levers or arches to indicate a command console. There were no eye stalks or video recording devices along the outer walls either.

Perhaps it meant that those within the city were not entirely focused on the entrance. Perhaps they had trained their focus to the sky rather than the world beneath their home. With a little fortune, that might have been the case.

 _If that had happened with the fallen kett, then the angara truly would have fallen to their enemy._

"I'm not entirely sure. The guardsman seem to be locked out of the city. I wonder how they return once their shift ends."

Syrus tapped the end of his maw. His claws snapped. "Look down the sight. See those antennas peeking from the helmets? What if they're used to not only communicate to each other, but to a hub, a central command unit? It's a similar tactic to what the raiders did back on the old mining stations. They radio in when their time ends, they give the command, just like that! Door opens."

"Then how do we enter the city if an angara has to request it?"

He parted the brush with the snout of his rifle and peeked through the scope. After a moment he lowered it and gestured further out. "I believe we should pay the secondary governess a little visit, don't you think?"

"Secondary-?" Syrus tilted the back of her head. "Ohh. This is a bad idea," she said, her voice lowering incredibly.

Syrus tapped the glass of her helmet, causing the pings to rattle the inner-mechanisms. "Please, like you haven't done the hostage situation before. Last I remember, you were good at it."

She shook her head, managing to steady her helmet and shoved him away. "Good, yes. Enjoyed it? No! Keelah, I remember plenty of times when it almost got us killed."

"And here we are, still in one piece."

"Stars above, you give terrible advice. But, I suppose I see no other option. We could try diplomacy but I'm not sure on our chances. It may fall sour."

"It will, no doubt about it. Nexus will be in their heads right now. They'll turn as soon as they see us."

From the thickest of the copse they crawled, on hands and knees at first, shifting from tall grass to timber bodies, until they were at the closest point of the platform, so close that they could see the indentations on the angaran armour - were parts had been patched, were others still had holes.

They waited for what felt to be an hour. Iyali'Talaas' boots had sank calf-deep into the mud, held safe only by the great, wrinkled roots that ringed the tree. The turian's claws clutched the rind until it splintered. Then, near suddenly, one of the two guardsman had left the door, heading out to patrol the other section of the platform. Syrus left Iyali'Talaas to follow, stirring little flora in his chase.

Iyali'Talaas quietly drew her Equaliser VI and crept out from behind the great roots to land her sights on the remaining guard. It was not a long ambush. One jolt to the head and his antenna cracked. One more jolt to the helmet and he landed side-first into the platform.

Syrus returned not long after.

Iyali'Talaas knelt over the unconscious angara and turned him over. There was a contraption hooked to the end of his helmet, emitting small waves of static and relinquishing small spouts of air through the grid. His chest rose and fell idly as if no damage was done at all. All observations together meant he yet lived.

If she did not know any better, she would have said that the angara had passed out from a feast by the way he was sprawled out across the floor, his form faceup and laid in such a calm way. Better it was that he looked that way, should other angara have found him.

The quarian spied the severed antenna by his head and plucked the singed part from the ground.

"What have you done?!"

Iyali'Talaas rose to find the secondary governess to Aya by the edge of the platform, her hands and legs in her black hardsuit trembling, her angular pale-blue features contorted in utter anguish. "You… you killed them. You killed my people. You… you… stars above, no…"

Malseh Ama Val began to step further and further back. Her four fingers ringed the railing where her body collapsed in on itself. She suddenly sank to the floor, shuddering when her crown fell into her hands, then knees.

Syrus and Iyali'Talaas exchanged wary glances, then he shouldered his rifle and knelt to her level. "Calm down, girl. Before you make us regret leaving you alive."

The angara hissed through her teeth and spat, " _Shenaskutt_! I hope to the stars the _tehet_ claim you for what you've done, you scorn of the cluster!" Tears welled within round silver doe-eyes, her chest convulsed with grief. Her focus shifted to the angara lain across the floor where she attempted to drag herself to him, only for Syrus to end her movement with a step in front of her. His legs appeared as two solid bars encased in solid steel.

"Taghaal," she beseeched, "my brother…"

Iyali'Talaas studied the broken antenna a moment before pocketing it and drawing over to the angara, placing a hand on her shoulder. She wretched away. "Malseh… it is Malseh, yes? Your brother is alive. He's stunned. Look, his chest still rises."

Malseh followed the quarian's gesture to her brother, finding no lie in her words. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Your brother will live but there is something far greater we need. We need your help."

Malseh reared a tear-streaked face..

Iyali'Talaas felt the susprise in her companion, but continued nontheless. "Malseh, not long ago a craft was seen on the horizon. It was not an angara ship, was it?"

She looked to her hands.

Iyali'Talaas nodded in knowing. "They weren't the Kett either, were they? They were Nexus. People that crossed dark space. The people I came with."

Malseh quietly shook her head, her voice small and thin. "I tried to warn my brother. I told him your people would bring doom upon the Angara. I told him. Paaran Shie let one into the city and Jaal… he spoke to it. Something has happened to him, changed him. The last I had seen, he boarded their ship and has not left since."

Iyali'Talaas clutched her necklace tight. "Malseh, we can help Jaal. We came here to help Jaal but knew your people would not listen to us, only you."

"No, you speak of lies. I see the poison dripping from your tongue. You came to aid your people in destroying our city. You attacked my brother to weaken us."

Syrus growled, throwing his arms back over the railing of the platform to lean against it, a claw to his brow-plate. "Kid, this is useless. We're wasting time. Let's just use her as a hostage to get inside."

Malseh drew her shoulders back and pushed her chest out in defiance. "The Angara will never surrender to you. We will fight and fight and keep fighting. So long as our family survives, so do we. Each time we will be reborn and put an end to all who face us. Together, we are the root and we are the stem. Our lineage will live on, as will Aya live on, as will our family live on, as will out spirits with the stars."

Iyali'Talaas felt herself smile, though not unkindly. Defiant to the end, extraordinary. "We do not want the Nexus here. We're exhiles Malseh, do you understand? Jaal understood that and now he might be hurt. You need not trust us, but the longer we wait is the longer Jaal may never return. Do you understand? Ignore us if you like, but Jaal will die. Aid us and there's a chance he survives. If he means anything to you, you will risk whatever you can to ensure his survival."

Iyali'Talaas ripped a part of her shawl from her thigh and extended it out to Malseh. The angara stared at it in a questioning manner, then gently took it and wiped her tears away.

"No harm will come to my brother?" she asked.

The quarian extended her hand once more and aided Malseh to a stand. "You have my word."

"That's all well and good," began Syrus, who had freed himself from the railing to stand before them, "but the antenna on that guard was destroyed beyond repair. The guard I took down fared just as well. So, how're we getting into the city now, hmm?"

With a wary smile, Malseh had handed the cloth back to Iyali'Talaas. "Do you still have the antenna?"

The quarian nodded.

"It will not be needed. These doors are old, created by my predassessors. The mechanisms are just as old and some are faulty. Our communications are far out to receive us, and so we have had to adapt."

Malseh walked over the door imbedded into the mountain and began gliding her hands along its rocky surface, mapping out the areas that were committed to memory until her hand rested on a particularly flat part of the stone. After a moment the rock glowed a faint red, emitted a chime and the door shuddered open.

"The Kett are advanced in their technologies, it is true, but what we have found is that they lack the mastery to conceal their devices. They believe themselves to be predators and so do not attempt to conceal themselves. They are ignorant and see us as incapable of truly masterful engineering even in our own technology. When they see the _daar_ , the stone, they see the stone. They lack fear and so lack the creativeness of hiding. This is our main advantage and why Aya has lasted as long as it has."

"Simple yet affective," Iyali'Talaas whispered, awe more than prominent in her tone. "Very clever."

The three species turned towards the door where inside was a passage encased in stone and shadow. "This tunnel leads to the heart of my city if you know which ways to turn," continued Malseh, "my people will notice you are different as soon as you enter. Fortunately for you, we are close to a time of delight for my people, a celebration to commemorate our good harvests for the year. But with the recent fear of your people, our celebrations have been put on hold.

"The bay for our ships will be clear of people. I can clear the guards away so you will be free to explore. There are cloths you can wear to conceal yourselves, but stay away from any of my people. From a distance you appear to be us, but many will know you are foreign if you are close to see."

The passageways led through the inner heart of the mountain, winding in the rock like great jagged worms with so many crossing sections that Iyali'Talaas feared that the mountain had no stable section to itself and needed only one sudden quake to crumble into dust. Eventually, she had chosen to name the underworld as the Catacomb, for there was no other word in her mind that could possibly describe it more aptly.

There were so many unlit sections that seemed to vanish into the underworld itself, perhaps left abandoned or for an emergency should the day ever come that the city of Aya needed to be evacuated. The passage Malseh led them through though had many streams of metal that seemed to pulse in a faint emerald hue when passed by her, as if reacting to her presence.

Iyali'Talaas had taken her time logging in the designs with her omni-tool, for at first they had been a single uneven line within the wall, but then became a net of symbols and patterns reminding her of a motherboard with many interconnecting circuits.

There were markings as well, cave drawings of the statues she had seen in the forest holding artifacts that seemed to depict weapons and scrolls.

 _The Angaran Gods, perhaps? Or something more…_

One such painting intrigued her the most. It held the angara as a people bowing before some mighty deity provided as the outline of a pyramid. Above that were stars, a constellation no doubt and many, many orbs, perhaps symbolising planets. It seemed the angara worshipped them, the deities of the pyramids, though why was not entirely clear.

She took a capture of the painting and stored in her historical logs.

After passing up a circular stairway crafted from metal and tile, they finally reached the great rusted door at the end of the passage. When the ancient hinges groaned, nightlight snuffed out the dark and a new city awaited them.

Aya.

It was the planet, it was the forest, it was the ocean and it was the city. And the city was beautiful.

Domes of chrome and white with vibrant panels of cloth and glass towered above them as great parasols shimmered in the twinkling hives of fireflies and torch-bugs that had originally come from the forest below the mountain. There were waterfalls flowing over and between bridges, variants of Shelesh, the angara language, decorating many of the pillars that stood along the city, relics perhaps of a lost time, and much of the native flora lay entwined in every nook and crevice, as if protecting and consuming the city.

The architecture reminded the quarian of the angara, intune to nature but also blending with the designs of a modern civilisation.

Iyali'Talaas walked within the city centre, marvelling at how high the parasols and buildings were in the thicker tiers of the mountain. There were giant lilac flowers, bountiful golden leaves, red and amber roots that netted many of the walls of the buildings in unfamiliar motifs. Her fingers swept along the vines and moss until she settled upon the ridge of a fountain where she decided to overlook the view of the world from beyond a small, circular balcony.

"Do you see why we keep ourselves isolated?" the young second governess to Aya asked, standing before her world with concern etched into every wrinkle of her frown. "Do you see those mountains far into the horizon? Where the cracks of the lava has not yet reached? I was born there. There is a village there. It is small, but my family work there to grow the fruit we eat. They risk their lives to be there. The scientists have said that the mountain will erupt, eventually. Many have left that place, but my family stay. They need to stay, while others search for other lands to grow our crops. Otherwise, a fifth of my people will starve before the next year."

Malseh walked over to the end of the railing and pointed out to the east. "Do you see the ocean not too far away? We have a colony of two hundred angara there who search for the artifacts of our ancestors to better understand their technology. One in twenty angara had fallen to the violent nature of those machines. The knowledge to use them has long been lost to us. Yet, they have made a few discoveries and that has brought that outcome down to one in forty."

She pointed west, to the volcanoes, to the rivers of lava and dying land. "There is a mining operation close to the outskirts of that place. They mine the ores we need to create the structures you see before you. They are one in eight companies and if just one of their mining operations falls to nature, then we cannot build defences for other worlds, for other angara cities and that leaves them to the wilds of the worlds and to the onslaught of the Kett."

She turned to Iyali'Talaas, her voice bright and hopeful. "The Kett will destroy us. The Resistance here tries to give my people the hope they need, but it is a frail hope that is shattered each time one of our family dies or is abducted. We cling to our people with every fibre, because we know they will not die old. And now that your people are here… we may actually lose this war, unless they help us."

"Jaal is with them because the Resistance leader, Efvra, has chosen him to be our diplomat. Jaal met with a human who called himself Pathfinder. But there has been no word since he went into your people's ship. They could be doing anything to him. We need him back. We need to know he is safe. If you are a friend to Jaal, show us you care. Save him, if you can."

Iyali'Talaas, for the first in a long time, truly felt the weight of a people and a world on her shoulders and it scared her. Her fingers curled into the chink of her necklace.

 _Keelah, Messenger, what have I gotten us into?_

Syrus appeared to regard the offer quite composedly, scratching his maw of dead skin and shell with a curled talon. "Intriguing offer little girl, but we're going to have to reject. Look at us," said he, gesturing to the shell of leather and earth-tinted armour over his legs and carapace. "Do we look like the honorary sort? We're mercenaries. Arms for hire. We don't go on intergalactic missions to save a species on the whim of some child in power."

"I am not a child! I am the second governess to Aya. If anything were to happen to Paaran Shie, it would be I who would need to lead my people to safety."

"You'll be leading them into an early grave, you dumb girl, only you would have us taken with you! Sorry, but we have been down this route before and it didn't end well. It bring too much trouble and I for one am too old to play the heroine. I like the role, true, but when it comes to the act, go ask some pup too knightly to know sense."

"You lied to me," hissed Malseh, her lips drawn in scrutiny, scorn, utter resentment. "You were never here to save Jaal, were you?"

Syrus shrugged and grabbed Iyali'Talaas by the shoulder. "The whole universe will knock you down, girl, better learning that now. You might actually live for some sense to hit you. Come on Iya, let's leave this place before we're swept up into their mess."

For a moment Iyali'Talaas allowed Syrus to take her from the balcony and back towards the passage in which they had come from. Only just before her feet had touched the doorway, she recoiled.

The turian reached for her shoulder again, then her arm, then her waist. Each time she twisted out of his grasp and moved back towards Malseh.

"Kid, what are you-?"

Iyali'Talaas ran over to the angara and held her wary gaze. "Will we be paid for this?"

Malseh blinked, tilting her head. "Paid?"

"What do your people have of value that they could trade with us?"

She fumbled over her words. "We have food, water, shelter…"

"What about weapons? Ammunition? Tools?"

"The builders and mechanics are sure to have those." She pouted her lips. "Why would you need them?"

"If we were to save Jaal Ama Darav, if we spoke to our people and somehow amended whatever mistake was made, we would need to be paid for our time, or else our help would be for nothing," Iyali'Talaas explained. "We need payment. That means weapons, any weapon will do. We are part of your galaxy now and the Kett are a threat to us all. Syrus and I need to be prepared to face them, and the only way we can is with a weapon. Is that fair?"

Malseh thought on the quarian's words, a small 'yes' making her decision known. "I suppose, I could ask the Resistance. They may refuse but… I could get you a weapon."

"Good, now there is the matter of my ship. We have managed to fix the majority of it but some parts will never work with the tools we have. If your people help in my ship's recreation, then that will be payment enough. Do we have a deal?"

Before she could continue, Syrus had clutched her left shoulder and forced her round to face him. "Kid, what are you doing? You know what happened before. This business never ends well for us. We'll both get killed for this!"

Iyali'Talaas saw the anguish in his eyes, the light of golden fire that expressed so much behind his natural plating. She reached out to touch his jaw, but he slapped her hand away. "Syrus-"

"Can't you see where this will lead? Iya, kid, are you truly that blind? This is no game. We'll be walking into a revolution that will never end. When one task is done another will take its place. You will be a ploy of these people until the day your heart starts to rot from the inside and your body is ripped from its tin by a wild adhi. Kid, don't make us do this. We're better then this. There are other ways."

"Syrus, there are no other ways. Our food will run low and we will starve. If we do not help, it is only a matter of time before something happens to us. We need our ship. We need the angara."

Iyali'Talaas reached out and stroked his cheeks with the pad of her thumbs until her shaking had settled to mild tremors. He leaned into her touch and placed his talons over her hands, touching his crown to her helmet and gently shaking his head. "Wars are a terrible place to be in, kid. Take it from an old veteran that knows. There's is only so much before we lose ourselves in it. And I can't… I won't watch it change you like it changed me."

It was rare indeed when he ever said anything against her, yet there he was, baring himself in what little way he could, pleading in the hope that it would change her mind. His tone was drenched in desperation, his talons dug deep into her gloved hands, his stance was ridged and defiant. _Perhaps there was still some ounce of pride within him, a small part that wished to prevent old wounds from resurfacing._

She did not fear war. She did not fear battle. Her life had been a war since her birth, one that she had hoped would end in Andormeda, but it seemed to only thicken as time passed on.

Still, the truth of the matter was that she knew in a matter of months, their food rations would deplete to nothing. And when that happened, they would either poison themselves on the fruit of Aya or starve until there was little of them left for the wild creatures to chew. The Angara would not aid them if they did not lend aid first, and they were in barely any position to offer terms. It was fortunate that Malseh did not realise how truly desperate they were, or else they would have been aiding in a war for very little gain.

The fear of war had clouded the judgement of her friend. Even if his plan was thoughtful and full of care, it would only end poorly in the end.

"My friend, my old, stubborn, _only_ friend…" she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek, "we have no choice."

...

..

.

Author Note: for reference on the quarian language, I happened to find a link that had a brief dictionary for the language. It might not be 100% correct but it is the only source I have to go on other than the few words on the mass effect wiki. And it brings a more unique vibe to Iyali'Talaas herself


	10. A Tale of Heroes

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Ten: A Tale of Heroes

The docks were just beyond her reach.

If she sifted through the gathering before her, twiddled her fingers inbetween their bodies, plucked the suspicions from their minds like the cords to a fiddle; danced on tiptoed feet until the ivory walls reflected the inky-black of her enviro-suit, she might have passed through to the other side, unscathed.

She had walked through their streets a minor, small compared to the tall lengths of the angara, yet dressed in the ceremonial throcks of silk and curtains, elaborately folded across her visor so that only the pale radiance of her eyes bore through the material. Only just.

She parted the silk from her face hesitatingly, her focus prancing between the many and the few. "There is no way we can pass through them, Malseh."

The Second Governess stretched on her tiptoes, an attempt to tower over those too tall and armoured. Civilians were not the only members to have gathered at the gates, after all. The entirety of Aya had awoken to the newcomers.

"I know of a second way," she whispered, beckoning the two towards a second door, "but you will have to trust me."

Syrus rolled the shoulder-blades of his carapace back, the crack reminding her of the snapping of leaves during a long drought. He straightened against a holy altar, idly plucking the decayed scales from his neck. "Coming this far was easy, kid. Getting through the guards without suspicion will be trickier." He frowned, tearing his silken cowl between two talons.

The quarian measured the scene before them, spied the distant fountains spraying rivulets of rain water into the air, the glass tapestries floating through the people like tailored advertisements and pillared terminals alit in variants of shelesh. Opportunities for distraction, if needed.

She held her hand out to Syrus, quietly. A gesture Malseh had encouraged once speculating the closeness between them. _The angara are close after all,_ from what she had seen, _acts of affection are far less likely to rouse attention._

Grumbling under his breath, the turian snapped his fingers around her own and allowed her to guide him from the marketplace, away from the parasol canopies and lilac flowerbeds, up a long stairway towards another wall etched in the familiar arches of a doorway.

Malseh hesitated against the lock, using her own wrist-hologram to connect to the central mainframe of the city, shifting through codes in a swirl of cyan monograms. Then, the door swished open.

Within was a chamber built specifically for monitoring, perhaps even surveillance, committed to walled terminals, central power units and windows that gazed out into the centre of the port.

Iyali'Talaas quietly stepped over to the window, finding that the main aircraft on display was one of her own people's engineering. _The shape of an arrow._

She remembered pages in schematics detailing the design of such an airship. All sharp points and steel-tipped wings glinting over the soft vapour of a waterfall. Never had she thought she would ever witness such a marvel up close, in her lifetime, no doubt. She was used to beaten frigates and oil-drummed engines. The system powering that shuttle must have been worth a million credits at least.

The quarian could practically feel the cogs turning within her friend's mind, the devilish glint of a thief in motion and the rubbing of plated palms that could only lead to trouble. A part of her mind thought to berate him for his action, but then again, where was the fun in that?

"Ever seen a ship like that, Syrus?" Iyali'Talaas asked, thumbing the chain of her necklace.

The old turian whistled low, slowly shaking his skull. "That… now that is a beauty. Where was that when we were looking for a shuttle to take?"

"A quarantined end of the Nexus, probably. Humans would put a ship out like that for display, but quarians? Salarians? No, they only let the majesty speak for itself when it is out in open space. A true shame. Messenger would have loved to fly such a craft."

"Don't start giving up on your hopes just yet, kid. The ol' geth still might, if we have a little luck."

Iyali'Talaas glanced over her shoulder to where Malseh stood, shakily. The quarian regarded her with a tilted helmet, her hand coming up to rest on the young one's shoulder.

The Second Governess jerked, falling back from her with a hand raised towards the diamond-indented glass. "By the stars, what is that? _Gestiir?_ Is that how you travel?"

"Shiny, isn't it?" Syrus chuckled, folding one arm and scratching his maw. "What must they use to rid the space residue? It's as smooth as the bare-hind of a salarian. Interesting."

The quarian raised a shoulder. "It is of the Nexus- those people we came with. As to whom owns that ship or flies it across Andromeda, I'm afraid I'm not sure. Take us there, Malseh. We will find Jaal."

The Second Governess stared at her questionably, her blue plump lips firm. She then grasped Iyali'Talaas by the hand, stepping backward towards the last doorway until her back collided with the metal. The quarian clenched the shawl over her armour with her other hand, smothering her visor with the fabric. The last door slipped open and the entrance to the port parted before her.

Outside, the air hummed in a melody of rushing water and flittering feathers. Leaves drifted through an evening breeze, an alcove of curved mountain rock and wild ferns shielded the port in a quiet grove seperate from the city, and the main isle lay clear for the company as if in welcome, solely glimmering in the passing light of a mid-evening sun and the softened shade of distancing cloud cover.

But where the platforms were bare and the bridges void, the centre docking outlet towered over the rest, proud in the technology of the new. Even the climbing vines did not touch the shuttle nor the tiny three-winged apes nested within the roots, as if the nature of Aya itself did not wish to touch it, sensing it too foreign to cling to.

One winged creature did dare to sneak up upon the open hangar, peeping into hissing valves and abundant darkness. But as the trio stepped closer to the airship, fear seemed to get its better. It soon flurried off in a flare of lilac feathers.

Iyali'Talaas scowered the front of the aircraft, noticing the elegant dip of its wings and the title 'Tempest' on its for-end. _A storm I would gladly bathe in. Beautiful._

"Incredible," she sighed, fighting the urge to skip, dance. She twirled beneath its body, plotting texture and detail, style and shape to memory, like the ship was her starchart, the unknown yet to be explored.

"Can you imagine how much we might get for this boat of towering credits?" Syrus grinned, tapping the solid columns of the underthrusters, whisking a tape measure from his belt and measuring the chimney breadth. He licked his talon and pointed to the sky, then begun to sniff the air.

"They've been here a while. The thrusters are cold. There's no energy in the air. Whatever they're doing, they've been doing it a while, kid." He dusted his talons along his thighs, slipping his rifle from his shoulder and cocking the safety _off._ "If we do this, we do this now. No going back."

Iyali'Talaas peered back towards the city, finding her kindle of courage slightly withered. She could go back if she wished, she supposed. Malseh Ama Val may tell her superiors of her treachery, but she highly doubted the girl would risk such a thing to her career, even if she barely knew her. She did boast, after all, of being the Second Governess.

Lying was always innate in the tongues of the political no matter what species. It was the same on Illium. It was the same on Omega.

The rations in her Messenger Mark II were close to depletion, however. And the Nexus would know their whereabouts eventually. Aya was grand, her forests even grander, but the angara knew her plains far greater than the quarian ever could. Her and Syrus would be found before the hunt had truly begun.

She wove circles into the sheathe of the IV Equaliser; felt the pent up energy stir beneath her gloved fingertips. A steady thrum that brought her comfort, even when the gun shimmered in the dusk-light. She tore the ceremonial veil from her enviro-suit, folded the corners of her own sanguine shawl across her mask.

Iyali'Talaas pointed her gun down and flicked the safety off. The orb by the handle lit in the electrical current of many tangles. "To save an angara," she sighed, turning towards the hangar bay. "What has my world come to?"

"Cross your heart and keen your ears, kid. Let's make this quick, clean. No heroes."

"We were never the heroes, Syrus," she whispered, raising the nose of her Equaliser into the darkness; her feet were light on the Tempest ramp. "But to scout the unknown? That, my friend, is a crime worth fought for."

Malseh laid her hands on the quarian's arm softly, her blue eyes alight in fear. _Fear for me or Jaal Ama Darav?_ "You will bring him back? You promise you will bring Jaal home?"

The soft face of the quarian softened more, not that the angaran girl could see. Instead, the lustre of her gaze dimmed, a near disappear through the violet mist of her helmet. When they brightened, however, there was a force of determination sparked with excitement.

Iyali'Talaas swallowed the fear from her throat, causing her voice to carry confidence. "We will try, Malseh Ama Val. I can do no more."

The angaran girl took courage in that, she supposed, for she left the port soon after.

The two drifters of Andromeda took one step into the aircraft, then another, until all the daylight of Aya faded to their backs and the crisp warmth of the Tempest's shadow engulfed them. There were whisperings from within, lights that played from circuits like stars.

The platform rose behind them and the rumbling of an engine wracked the compartment.

It was not long before the Tempest rose to flight.

...

I am evil. Always loved a good cliffhanger. Thank you so much for your kind words and to all those following this story so far, I truly appreciate it. So, what will happen next? Will the unlikely pair shoot first and ask questions later? Will they save Jaal and go back to a world of butterflies and rainbows? Probably not, but stay tuned for more :D


	11. Her Tempest

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Eleven: Her Tempest

Never had she resented the act of flight until the Tempest embraced the blue-white atmosphere of the Angaran homeworld.

In her days of youth she had boarded airships with little promises other than credits at the end of the journey. She had stolen ships from the elite, many that would have rivalled the very cruisers of the military, all golden plates and bejewelled interiors that always paid a handsome bounty. Of course their cut in the action was never truly worth it, but the act of seeing the universe through their eyes truly was.

She had boarded hunks of bolts and shrapnel through uncharted territories; raced glim-lit asteroids solely for the thrill of freedom and opportunity. She had stowed away on starships from smugglers, traders, lords and criminals, and still managed to venture out into open stars with very little fear.

It had always been part of a grander plan. Mostly. Save the profits, buy a starship of her own and set out into the universe doing however she pleased. A dream that to many was fathomless but to her keen mind, a possible and eventual reality.

But the fright of the Tempest waking from its slumber jolted a sudden lack of motion into the quarian, leaving her flat across the hangar bay with her helmet reflecting the platform above.

And the only word to come to her mind? _Bosh'tet_. In the common tongue? _Shit_.

"Spirits, what by my ancestor's plates just happened?" Syrus groaned, lazily reaching up to steepled knees. Holding the back of his skull, he glimpsed around dazedly, finding wrecks of oiled machinery lying across the bay. "Is this some kind of junker? Sure appeared better on the outside."

Iyali'Talaas shakily rose to her waist, her arms splayed behind her.

The inside of the Tempest was a set of torchlit bees, figuratively speaking. Circuits dotted the walls in varying degrees of spotlight while the remainder of the hangar lay unlit save for the blinking, twinkling spots. There were desks, terminals, random stock crates and lifepods, and a grand gaped mesh of metal plating across the floor that had heat rising from the pipes.

 _Was it a junker?_ she wondered, knowing the interior design of the cruiser was highly sophisticated, so clean that it reflected the lights, but the crew in that section of the ship must have unpacked in a hurry. _Perhaps the Tempest had only recently seen flight?_ It would explain the stash of ammo crates and tools also scattered across the floor. _Or perhaps they had met the Kett before Aya._

Taking her friend's hand, Iyali'Talaas steadily rose to her feet, slowly turning around while Syrus plucked her Equaliser from the floor and handed it to her. She checked the side-release of the magazine. The cartridges had yet to be taken.

Neither of them had been robbed of their equipment so it was possible that the crew had yet to know they were there.

Iyali'Talaas smiled behind her visor, feeling a rush of excitement vanquish her fear. _With the aspect of surprise, we stand more than a chance._

"So, they don't know we're here. That's fortunate."

"More than fortunate, Vitarian. We have a chance here. Back on Aya, I was not quite sure we did."

"I told you, we could have returned to the Messenger at anytime. You didn't have to do this, kid. Not for some flat-crown."

Iyali'Talaas flipped the magazine closed, taking comfort in the familiar emerald glow the pistol emitted. "It's too late to argue, Syrus. Let's move."

The two quickly stepped up towards the first of the parallel doors sealing them within the chamber. Usually the doors would have parted on their own accord, but something was jamming the frequency, or their presence.

Syrus loomed over the command terminal: a shy shimmer of steel with a spherical base. He twisted the holographic dials with three talons, pinching his specs with the remaining three on his other hand, while the lenses mirrored the traces of blue sine waves along the screen. "Automatic shut down. Happens a lot when ships just decide to burst through the atmosphere. My guess? Our little friends are still on the bridge."

"Can you open the door?"

The turian's talons faltered along the glass, his face the utter depiction of offended. "Can? Kid, I can do this with two claws behind my back and with my brain in a jar. Can I open the door? Pfft."

In the slide of a claw, the door swished open.

Iyali'Talaas peeked through the corridor, gun raised, then turned back to her friend, bowing a low curtsy. She waved her hand and descended further into the bowels of the Tempest. The necklace of her Messenger bounced along her armour.

The corridor led to a central hall roofed by a rounded ceiling. A glass bridge cut through the centre above and on either side were two doors, each leading to another end of the cruiser. Crew quarters, medic bay and galley were but a few of the labels for each room, but it was the insignia above the power generators that caught the quarian's attention: The Andromeda Initiative.

"They truly are Nexus," she whispered sadly, part of her mind imagining just how dire the Nexus was now that they had escaped. None would have missed their company, but the supplies they had confiscated would have set the people back by days, perhaps even weeks.

She sighed, peering down the hall. _It is better this way. The Nexus was never going to survive. Better a few from the Milky Way do than none at all._

Syrus stood at the end of the hall with his back to the quarian. He raised his rifle, holding the snout to the base of text engraved above the middle door. "Hey kid, come look at this."

The quarian looked at the engravement oddly, raising her hand in an attempt to touch the letters. "Pathfinder's quarters? What's a pathfinder?"

The turian shrugged. "New higher-up in the Nexus? Commander of the ship, probably. Might be good loot inside."

"It will probably be well guarded too, Syrus. Come, we have a mission."

Syrus grasped her hand, firm. He inclined his maw, searching her helmet with a keen, dilated eye. "You alright, kid? You've been acting strange ever since we met the flat-crowns. Not like… you."

Iyali'Talaas scoffed, tugging her hand, only for it to remain trapped. "What do you mean not like me?"

He snuffed the distance between them in one stride, clicking his mandibles in what she knew to be a frown. "Too saintly. Back from home you would never open your hand to a race without at least negotiating a fee. Now you're willing to risk more than just your life over a species you don't even know. And I know for a fact that my Iya wouldn't leave a heist knowing there was loot just out of reach! Kid, talk to me. What's going on with you?"

A stillness swept over her body, one she was sure he could feel even through her gloves. He squeezed her hand firmer. "We have a job to do, Syrus. We can talk once that's done."

"Will we?" he asked, hoisting his rifle over one shoulder. "What do you think will happen when we return to their home world with this Jaal, hmm? Do you think they're going to accept you? Maybe throw a celebration for your return? Offer you a place to live?"

The turian cupped her helmet's cheek, grazing his claw along her visor. She could see the scratch forming underneath - a faint, pale line - a cracking reminder. "Iya, kid, open your eyes. I know what you think this might become, but it won't. It never will. It's just you and me, always has, always will."

Iyali'Talaas grasped his arm tight, and threw it from her face. "It's just a mission, Syrus. Nothing more. The angara mean nothing to me, just as my own species mean nothing to me, nor yours, nor anyone else's unless they are us. Do I find their people interesting? Yes. Just like I found the prothean ruins interesting on Mars, and near Iios and all those other worlds. They are a new species, Syrus. Of course I am going to find them fascinating. Their history, culture, are… are… thrilling. Yes, I yearn to know more. I have always wished to know more of history, but that will not end us."

She stalked up to him like an adhi leering at its supper, her movements slinky, smooth. Her old self. She pressed a finger to the sharp point of his maw, tipping it down to meet her. "All that matters is you and me. We need a ship, we need finance. We need Jaal Ama Darav, or else we will never leave this world. That is all I care about. Us leaving Aya to find a place for ourselves."

She rolled her necklace within her other hand, staring distantly over his shoulder. "Nothing else matters, I promise you that."

For a moment she dared to not see his reaction. Had she ever felt so strongly for something to hold him like that? She was not quite sure, but it felt right in that situation.

When she did finally meet his gaze, she saw the curious grin cracked along his maw. He stepped away from her touch, coughing into a curled fist. "I trust you, kid. Let's go find your flat-crown."

Iyali'Talaas nodded and lead the way.

They climbed a ladder and followed the glass bridge across the spine of the Tempest. Within the heart lay a grand atrium panneled in glass with roots of metal entwining in the dome. The glimpse of a nebula peeked through the ceiling; wispy plumes of hazy green, gold and blue. Space dust swirled outside as well, sparse and speckled as the Tempest rocked in the void.

A central terminal rested in the lower section of the atrium and from either side, two ramps rounded into a central hub held on the second tier. Shadows danced across the walls, humanoid forms dotted the railings. The collated breath of four species congregated from above, all harsh whispers and snarky remarks; an argument, it seemed, but for what and who?

"I'm just saying as far as first contact goes that was better than the last one!" a female voice urged from above, writhering defiantly through the other mutters.

"And now we have another mouth to feed, whatever he eats," had come another: deep, guttural, edged, like the jagged cuts of a beaten moon.

Iyali'Talaas gripped her pistol tight. _Was that a krogan?_

There was an eerie silence over the hub, and then another voice piped in. "Do the translators not work?"

Iyali'Talaas felt her chest grow cold, instantly knowing the guttural curl of the responding individual. Jaal Ama Darav. "They work."

The two trespassers quietly crept over the ramp to their left, their bodies blending into the shadows while their knees grazed the steel. Iyali'Talaas curled under the banister, peeking out from the slanted base to spy the scene before them.

Jaal rose from the distant shadow. His tall heather form and flaring cape were a strange oddity in contrast to the other species pooled around a round table: the soft pale flesh of three humans; the scaled, rough exterior of a turian; the hard, egg-shelled exoskeleton of a krogan; even the gentle, blue-fleshed grace of an asari. "One day, around eighty years ago, the Archon and the Kett arrived in Heleus… and the horror began."

Jaal sighed, his shoulders slightly lower compared to his previously strong baring. _Even to strangers, angara show emotion. "_ They did not claim war at first. They were… nothing so easy to define or fight. But slaughter… slaughter they did. My people, _we_ , never stood a chance."

The smaller of the male humans nodded, spreading his arms across the table. "The Kett kidnap Angara like cattle to the slaughter. Their people disappear without a trace, their families, children, parents. What if that were us? What would we do?"

Jaal nodded. "The Resistance is stretched thin. I was tasked with travelling to two of our worlds at our briefing this morning. And," he turned to the small human, staring down at him rather pointedly, "you will accompany me."

An uproar started over the negotiation, all four species hurling objections into the air. Iyali'Talaas found her lips quirking at such a sight. Her focus lingered on Jaal, however, with her fingers often flexing over the trigger.

The small human frowned, crossing his arms over a black jumpsuit striped red. "Remind me, why would I do that?"

Jaal leaned in, the blues of his eyes a nefarious shade darker and his height seemingly far more taller. The human did not shrink. "Because then Efvra will see you as trustworthy. You want that."

The human sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Fine, fine, we'll do it your way." He motioned to the table. "Tell us about the worlds, Havarl and Voeld."

Along the hub two planets appeared over the Tempest crew: one the picture of wild green and the darkest blue, the other as white as sheeted ice.

Jaal cleared his throat. "Before the scourge disaster, Voeld was a thriving planet of billions. A shining centre of technology and life. Now, it is the centre of our ground war against the Kett. Our resistance base is fighting Kett command for control of the planet.

"Havarl is different. It is the birthplace of the Angara. It's started to degrade, to become wild and dangerous. We suspect Remnant."

Iyali'Talaas pursed her lips, unsure of what the word 'remnant' meant. _How much has Jaal Ama Darav kept from me?_

"We've recently lost contact with our scientists. That has caused much confusion. The Resistance doubt the Kett are responsible, however."

"Then who is?" asked the human.

Jaal motioned to the planets, his hand a sharp curve - a cup - offering neutrality and cooperation. "That is for us to find out."

Iyali'Talaas grasped her stomach hard, fingers digging into the armour, instantly feeling a nauseous wave befall her. _That is for us to find out._

 _Us_. The very use of the pronoun tore a pang of dread through her gut and she closed her eyes, feeling the weight of such a word fall upon her shoulders as if the very gravity on the Tempest instantly distorted, becoming burdening, suffocating. It was tiny, little, a near insignificant word, yet with it brought notions of friendship, trust, peace, sincerity. Above all else, unity.

What was to be the enemy of the Nexus would be the enemy of the Angara. She would be their enemy, Jaal Ama Darav her own.

She had been tricked.

Syrus growled lowly into her comms-link. "You should have known."

Iyali'Talaas clutched her neck, encaged her necklace, wished nothing more than to be sucked into the tiny crystal moulded into the centre and for her world to be snuffed out like a light. She then stared at the pistol in her other hand, feeling her fingers flex over the trigger once more, once out of protection, now out of the lust to kill.

 _Syrus was right. Stars above, he was right all along! I'm such a fool._

Her Equaliser rose from her waist, heavily. In its sight the Angara stood unfazed.

It was simple, so simple. A twitch in her finger and his world would come undone. She could not bring him back to Aya now knowing her own life would be traded in exchange for something as ridiculous as potential _peace_. She could still return to Aya with news that the Nexus had killed Jaal Ama Darav. The young Second Governess was so naive Iyali'Talaas could spin her own tale to fit her persona and the governess would palat the lies just as greedily. Truth in war could be manipulated effortlessly.

There would be sorrow, yes, much sorrow for the Angara. There would be hope for the quarian as well, though. A chance to start anew, for her Messenger Mark II to be mended, for her plans back from the Milky Way to be actualised. Her second chance could begin again.

But then she saw how many there were of the Tempest crew, snapping her gaze across the faces, whose figures stood arranged in a loosely defined cluster, all facing each other beneath the ashen light of ethereal imaged planets.

Her mind counted one, two, three, four, five. A krogan counted as two, even without a weapon. Three rounds would not sully his stance. He would drive through their defence and throw them out the airlock before the life from Jaal Ama Darav drifted through the currents of shock to come to an end with his reaper.

And then the angaran glanced her way. Eyes the shine of the universe, she had originally thought. A wonder, it was, that such eyes could truly be real. The last few weeks ripped through her mind: the ambushes, the stories, the intriguing curiosity that was the angara. For a moment she could almost see him sweeping across a forest, the depths of his cape swallowing the sunlight that seeped through the branches. The last time they had fought the Kett.

She remembered a proverb she had read in her youth, once. [The killing of passion is forgivable, but the killing of the unknown and mysterious, eternally damning. Worse be a friend, with a smile on your face.]

The Equaliser begun to shake. A subtle kind of murderer, was she. Temptation did not inherit action. Oh, how she wished it did. She should have let the bolt seize his chest and burn away her sorrows, she should have let the floors pool in angaran green and let the potential unity of a generation fall to the depths of forgotten.

But she had never shot a friend before. Her thoughts registered on that word: friend. _Was he my friend? Was he a friend?_

Her hand landed in her lap. "Syrus," she whispered, shoulders dropped, " _bosh'tet_! I cannot do it!"

There was only the falter of a heartbeat before the crank of a rifle hissed passed her sound preceptors. The heart of a battled-worn veteran whose general hesitated. He would not hesitate.

In the midst of a moment a jolt aired through the atrium; seized the hearts of all and bounded through their spirits. The reflexes of the angaran were like a dance: smooth, effortless, as lithe as silk. In a swirl of cerulean cape, only the ends were singed in the wake of burning fire. From his back his Kett rifle whirled through the air, and a jolt of green energy clouded the quarian's eyes.

Her hands flew to the symphony of the battle, an orb of violet encasing the deadly shimmering ball in suspended animation a millimetre from her chest. One grand inhale of breath was all that was needed to break the case protecting her heart.

Her fingers wove the cords of her biotics, the sheer force of her will manipulating the power inside, channeling the physics of its course to a new destination: the central hub. When her shield shattered the ball glimmered across the ceiling, and a rain of energised embers flittered above them.

When she tried to grab her pistol from the floor she heard the resounding pulse of a loaded weapon tapping the pinnacle of her helmet. Iyali'Talaas lowered her hands. Her pistol was kicked to the corner.

She peeked up, finding the same black jump-suited human from before staring her down. He was a tall man, born of half-tanned stock though there was little surety on what race he was, baring a lack of wrinkles and greyed locks she had come to know from human aging. His features were mostly not very defining save for a long, hooked nose and a thin, determined mouth.

On his jumpsuit was the title 'Pathfinder." "What's a quarian doing in Andromeda? Last we checked, your ark hadn't left the Milky Way," he asked, in a deep, near youthful voice tinted in surprise rather than ire. The muzzle of his barrel rested under her breathing apparatus, lifting her chin up.

"You can talk, yes?"

She lowly nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, it has not," she said, in a cold, tight voice. "I never came with an ark."

"Then how did you get here? More importantly, how did you get on my ship?'

"Scavengers," she muttered, her tongue so sweetly tripping on the trails and flourishes of an embellished tone. The hint of her Illium accent sufficiently quenched. "We were looking for salvage. We had thought this vessel abandoned, and truly such a fine cruiser was ripe for the picking. Anyone would have done it."

The Pathfinder dug the muzzle deep which caused her apparatus to wheeze and crackle. "We left Aya an hour ago. There's no way you could've boarded the Tempest before then."

A thought seemed to cross his mind. He glanced over his shoulder to Jaal. "Which means we're not the first aliens the Angara have met, like they wanted us to believe."

Jaal took a step forward, his height seeming to tower another inch. "We never said you were the first. "

"Paaran Shie did."

"She didn't know about the others."

The black brows of the Pathfinder quirked, as did his lips. "Others?"

Iyali'Talaas noticed the wary flicker of angaran eyes and met his in earnest. "We trusted you."

His face momentarily softened, an emotion akin to pity crossing the blue of his eyes. Then, his head lightly bowed. "I am sorry."

Anger flashed through her, molten red. "Sorry? You are sorry?!" She jerked to her feet, the only thing keeping her from meeting the angara being the barrel of a rifle. "Traitor! Traitor you are, Jaal Ama Darav! Liar! Deceiver!"

"Hey, hey!" The Pathfinder yelled, shoving the barrel firmly into her chest.

Iyali'Talaas groaned, her back colliding with the ramp. In a flash Syrus had flung himself between them, his claws mid-swipe before he was thrown to the floor by a rampaging krogan.

He snarled over Iyali'Talaas, wiping the blood from his mandibles.

The Pathfinder raised a fist, stopping the krogan from any further violence. He looked back to the rest of his crew, then to those on the floor. "Lock them up and take them to the barracks. We'll question them there."

Unlike Syrus who struggled, Iyali'Talaas allowed her hands to be bound by shackles and for her shoulders to be hauled roughly from the central hub. Before she disappeared entirely, she caught the slight flash of the angara leant across the round table, his Kett rifle laid out in front of him and his head in his hands.

She was not sure why in that moment she felt sorrow.

...

Thank you everyone for your kind words, especially HeavenlyCondemned and pikahopp! I'm working on the next chapter now as I really want to get iyali'talaas to Haravl and get this story progressing - I'm not sure how well this chapter works for the story, I want to go for slow pace but I also want it to not be boring haha. Hopefully it isn't too boring so far.

The story will continue for a while with the main story of the game, now that Iyali'Talaas is in the loop. She'll still have her own unique adventures with Jaal and the story once again will splinter off once they go to Havarl

hope this is okay in the meantime. Thanks for reading :)


	12. Truce in Concord

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twelve: Truce in Concord

The Pathfinder stood in the barracks of his Tempest, his long arms crinkling leather in their fold and lips set in a very firm line. "We've spoken to Jaal. He says you crash landed on Aya nearly a month back. Though he kept you hidden, I understand his reasons. What matters is he was protecting you. One of our own. Which is why I can't seem to understand why you'd want to kill him."

Iyali'Talaas sat on a steel chair facing forward, her arms bound tightly behind her and her turian nowhere to be seen. She stared distantly at the floor, not that he could tell, the surface all reflective panels and shimmering white lights. There was no response.

The Pathfinder sighed, bending to his knees. "Iyali? Do you mind if I call you that?"

Again, she did not stir. Instead, she chose to focus on the steady tilt of the galaxy caressing the ship, as if on a balanced tide, as well as the hollow pounds of spacerock colliding together in a nearby asteroid belt. Space was like that, quiet and then clamorous. It always surprised her that such volume could travel into a ship, even though particles themselves could not.

Once more the Pathfinder sighed, this time raising a hand to scratch the stubble along his neck. "Iyali, I'm trying to understand what's going on. I'm not the bad guy here. If fact, I'm the good guy. My team and I are here to save our people, hell all of us. We came from the Hyperion. We're helping rebuild the Nexus. It's kind of our thing. Now we're just trying to figure out our place in this crazy galaxy. For that to work, we need cooperation. Are you willing to cooperate?"

The quarian eventually dared to look at her captor, but all she saw was a young boy playing god. He was too polite, had too much fire and passion in his eyes to be a veteran or war commander, or some pompous little rich cub who had sensed the root to power and took it without a thought. Like those on the Nexus council.

Like her, he was young but not unworldly. She would have admired that about him and all he had accomplished if her wrists were not aching against the restraints, and had he not been the reason for her soon-to-be return to the Nexus.

For the past hour lies had been swirling through her mind like marbles in a pouch. Some were believable, some were incredibly outrageous. Her helmet tilted from side to side, her mind weighing the two favourites for plausibility. Eventually, she came to a conclusion.

The quarian attempted to lean forward, only hissing when the restraints pulled a little too much. "Do you know who I am?"

"A scavenger, or at least that's what you told us."

"And who I am to the Nexus?"

The Pathfinder raised his shoulders. "Honestly, we haven't been able to dig up much even with help back home. Your name is Iyali'Talaas vas Messenger, pardon my pronounciation, and," he raised his wrist, the entire sleeve glowing in the amber images of an omni-tool, "that you were previously from a local station doing guard detail. You transferred to the Andromeda Initiative for unknown reasons and you managed to obtain a spot on the Nexus, despite being the only quarian onboard. Anything else, combat ability, medical reports, all have been wiped. Now why is that, exactly?"

Iyali'Talaas smiled, leaning back triumphantly in her chair. _Messenger, you genius_. "Maybe your systems were damaged in the Scourge, commander. Last I had seen of the starship, it was heavily damaged, beyond repair. Syrus and I left to make it on our own. We have seen situations like that before. We knew what would come next."

The Pathfinder nodded, then stroked the end of a goatee left untrimmed. "Self-preservation, is that what you'd have me believe?"

"It's what the others did during the uprising. Our uprising was just a little later. We took a ship and sailed away. That is our only fault."

She held her tongue between pointed teeth, hoping that the theft of a cruiser alone would not be worthy of a trip across the stars. Within her enviro-suit, she heard a circuit belonging to her breathing apparatus wheeze through the hush. Damaged beyond repair most likely. She would curse the Pathfinder if he did not hold her captive.

"Is that why you're afraid of us?" he asked, clapping his thighs. "Of the Initiative?"

"That depends. Will you take me back there to face a trial?

The Pathfinder fell silent, his brown eyes a flicker across the barracks, his chin held tight. He then stared at the quarian lowly under a fringe of dark locks, as if attempting to sense the morality within her.

His smile baited her breath. "As far as I'm concerned, I have no quarrel with you, other than being a tresspasser on my ship, of course. And trying to get a member of my team killed."

She inhaled sharply. She tried to keep her voice levelled, calm. Inside her enviro-suit, however, her limbs shook in anticipation. "And if this was all a misunderstanding, where would that leave us, Pathfinder?"

"You tell me."

The quarian intently tugged on her binds, only for the clatter to sound throughout the barracks. She leaned in close and tugged again. "Syrus and I had made… enemies on the Nexus. People who wanted us to join their crew, to help take over the medicinal bays in the south-end sector of the ship," she whispered, the foundations of her lie taking plot.

"They were dangerous criminals, not that we could not best them, but there were more of them than us. We knew we would be safe on the ship no longer, and security would not even hear our plea. So we took a cruiser hoping to be free of it all. The last thing we ever wanted was to die a slow death on a failing wreck. Would you have done the same, Pathfinder, if you had to choose? Stay in a place where you could die from several matters, be it starvation, a stray bullet or an infection, or choose to flee and perhaps save more in the time being?"

Iyali'Talaas inclined her waist sideward and motioned to the long, jagged scar across her enviro-suit that had been hastily patched. "This was one of the wounds I took from them. A reminder, a warning in case we decided to not adhere to them again. With myself wounded, and Syrus… concerned for my welfare, we saw no other choice but to leave. My leaving also meant the Nexus had more supplies. To heal my condition took months. I even have a copy of the report on my omni-tool. I was in a coma for weeks, and had only survived by an asari healer."

Iyali'Talaas faltered, remembering her time in the clinical wards and the shock she had put her body through. All for attempting to change her biology. Still, she had yet to test it.

"Then what happened?' the Pathfinder asked, parting her from her reverie.

The quarian laughed shyly. "Would you believe we happened upon Aya by mistake? We had been following a lifesign in the Scourge for a matter of weeks, only to realise that the lifesign was Kett."

The Pathfinder leaned further forward, an elbow braced over one knee. "You made contact with the Kett?"

"I can show you the damage to my ship. Jaal Ama Darav will even be able to confirm it. We were blasted from the skies, Pathfinder, by more Kett than we had ever dared to see. We thought they were the angara when we settled! It was Jaal Ama Darav that helped us survive the past month on that world. Without him, we would not be here today."

The Pathfinder recoiled. "See, that's what I don't understand!" he expressed, twirling back to face her. "Why board my ship and shoot him the first chance you get if he meant so much to you? Are you just cold or heartless?"

Iyali'Talaas softened her voice and dropped her shoulders. "Neither, Pathfinder, I promise you! When we heard what happened to Jaal Ama Darav, it was from one of his own people. An angara named Malseh Ama Val. She believed you kidnapped him, sought to torture him. We felt indebted and came to help him. When we saw the commotion between you all, I-I feared for his life. I was not aiming at the angara. I was aiming at-"

"Me."

Iyali'Talaas held her tongue. The lie was risky, the riskiest out of all the lies she had thought of, but if she could persuade him that it was out of thought and care…

"We never heard of a Pathfinder. Of you, specifically, or any other arks within Heleus. We supposed you had all died. After our leave of the Nexus, we knew we would be hunted. I feared the councillors had decided that the angara were as bad as the Kett, and that you were going to hurt the only alien that showed us any kindness. I could not," her breath quivered, "I could not let that happen to my friend."

"But you called him a traitor."

Iyali'Talaas feigned surprise. "Him? I, no that is not possible, I called you traitors. My translator… I spoke fast, and it has been defective lately. It might have been when I crashed… I said you were traitors, liars, deceivers. It was a warning."

He seemed to consider her words, raising a hand to rub his brow. "I'll need to speak to the crew about this."

Iyali'Talaas truly found herself surprised. "You take into consideration the opinions of your crew? All of them?"

The Pathfinder nodded. "Have to. It's a democracy under my command, not a dictatorship. Which could end poorly for you. After all, my crew only saw you shoot our new ally, not the story you just spun for me."

"The truth," she insisted, narrowing her gaze. "The truth. Contact Aya to speak to Malseh Ama Val, she will confirm everything. Speak to Syrus about it all. He will provide the same story. Ask Jaal Ama Darav, he will clarify what truly happened and how we helped him in fighting the Kett."

"You helped fight the Kett?"

Iyali'Talaas chuckled. "Spoilers, Pathfinder. Another story for you should I make it through this."

The human, despite the tension in the air, truly smiled. He turned to leave the barracks, catching the back of his neck.

Before the flicker of black striped red jumpsuit faded from view, the quarian quickly inched forward. "Do with me what you will, just tell me, is Jaal Ama Darav alright? He was not hurt, was he? And my friend, Syrus. If the fault requires a blame, I would rather it be me."

She waited patiently for the bait to sink in, her toes drumming the floor in nervousness. The Pathfinder did not return, but through the door she heard the following, "Jaal is fine. The turian, your friend, is fine. That's all I can say."

Iyali'Talaas sighed. "Thank you, and thank you for giving us a chance."

The door swished to a close, leaving the young quarian strapped and alone with only the play on light from the flickering monitors behind her for company.

What the Pathfinder, nor the rest of the Tempest crew were unaware of, however, was the quarian's brightening, devilish grin.

...

It was an hour before the Pathfinder returned to her. He was not quite the same pristine she had first seen with his dark locks retousled and a flutter of a blush tinting his cheeks. There were wary grooves under his eyes too, etched and sagging like the drooping of a vine from a sycamore tree.

He grasped her chair hard and spun her around. Blinded, Iyali'Talaas heard the swish on an omni-fool and feared a blade, tugging on her restraints more though the steel remained intact. And then all at once her hands went lax and a weight first upon them instantly vanished.

The quarian turned her wrists over warily before peeking back.

The Pathfinder's expression remained stern. "Listen," he said, returning to his knees. "Jaal's spoken to the Resistance, and to your contact. The sources add up, so I can only assume you were telling the truth. Even Jaal put in a good word for you, and you tried, or he thought you tried to kill him. Same with your friend, so," he sighed, "holding you here would just be a waste of time. You're free to go."

"And where is Syrus now?" she asked tentatively, carefully rubbing her wrists. Even through the armour she was sure her skin had burned.

"In the hangar bay. We're going to take you back to Aya. What you do there isn't up to us but the angara. So, I wouldn't hold your breath for a peaceful solution. With Jaal not looking after you I'm not sure what they'll do. But they won't hurt you, or risk having to answer to us. You're one of us, Iyali, from the Milky Way. We hold out for our own now more than ever. Continue to cooperate and you will have no trouble with us."

Iyali'Talaas nodded. "Thank you, Pathfinder."

She slowly stood, her legs stiff and pained from the last hour of being sat in the same position.

The Pathfinder grasped her hand in his own, firming it in a brief shake. "There's one more snag I forgot to mention, though."

The quarian drew her hand back immediately. "A… snag?!"

"Yes!" He grinned. "Well not truly a snag but something you might find interesting. You see, we've never fought the Kett more than a handful of times, hell we only saw the Kett in such large masses here above Aya. We could use all the help we can get. You also know the angara better than we know them ourselves. You can help us in making introductions, in our mutual cooperation. In return, we could do something for you."

That pricked her attention. Iyali'Talaas leaned along the desk behind her, cupping her necklace softly. "What could you do for me, Pathfinder?"

He too mirrored her stance, falling back upon the support of a double-bunk, his arms neatly folded. "You mentioned a crashed ship. Would that be something you're willing to have us have a look at?"

"Glance _and_ fix, commander?'

"Nobody better to fix the cruiser than one of our own engineers. We could get you airborne in a day. Easily."

"And all I would have to do in return is help you with the angara?" she asked, a hint of suspicion on her tongue.

"Yes, more importantly Jaal." The Pathfinder leaned in, glancing to the door as if cautious to continue. "First contact meetings are tricky. The angara are our first real and perhaps only shot at getting some semblance of peace out in Andromeda. For that to work, I can't go breaking barriers and offending him. You've lived with him, know more about him than any of my crew dare to in this moment in time. And, Jaal said you were a seasoned warrior. You impressed him, somehow, and another fighter is another benefit to my team."

Iyali'Talaas inhaled a nervous breath, having definitely not hypothesised that outcome. "And if I and Syrus were to just… leave when we wished, what would you do?"

"Have Gill mend your ship and be on your way. This is a mutual cooperation agreement, Iyali. There's no loose ends we're keeping in the dark. What you get from us is straight, true and honest. If you decide further down the line you want to leave, we'll complete our half of the deal. No hard feelings.

"Despite what you suffered in the Nexus, I'm no monster," he added, the hard crease of his brows lifting. "Unless you provoke me, which I'd suggest not doing."

Iyali'Talaas smirked despite the warning. _Youthful he may seem, but courage he has too_. She liked the small ounce of truth that came with the intended discomfort, like a salve for a sting, even if such a thing provoked mirth instead of intimidation.

"So, what do you say?"

The quarian weighed the pros and cons quite thoughtfully. In one instance, she was putting herself and Syrus into further danger. Her friend's words rung true in her mind: _You will be a ploy of these people until the day your heart starts to rot from the inside and your body is ripped from its tin by a wild adhi._ If she chose to side with the Initiative, she had no doubt that might come to pass. It was the truth of war and adventure.

Alternatively if she returned to Aya not only would she be returned to a dead and decaying cruiser but she would also be back to her original issue: that her rations would deplete and she would starve. She may have helped Malseh Ama Val, but without the presence of Jaal Ama Darav she doubted the Resistance would help her. In fact, they might not have helped her at all. Malseh was only a young angara after all, and though she may have held sway over her people, to help an outsider was problematic at best.

And Jaal Ama Darav was to help her rebuild her ship. On her own, even with the correct tools, she truly doubted she could ever get her Messenger Mark II in flight. _I am a pilot after all, not a mechanic._

Syrus was the same. He was a fighter, a survivalist, was able to scrap together a weapon from broken parts but the same could not be said for a cruiser.

In the end only one decision was clear. She bowed her head respectfully, only rising when she was sure he knew their pact was sealed. "I accept, Pathfinder, for now at least."

"Great, we'll get a bunk set up for you both." The Pathfinder held out his hand once more, waiting for the quarian to gingerly take it. He grinned, yanking her arm down. "Welcome to the team."

The weight of such a decision, despite what she thought, actually lifted her spirits. For a second time since leaving Andromeda she felt in control of her fate once again, not damned by nature or the problems of a people. She was going to have her cruiser fixed. She was going to finally place roots in the galaxy and live her life how she wished, freely, uncontrolled.

"Oh, and Pathfinder-" the quarian called when he turned to leave.

"Hmm?"

Iyali'Talaas placed a hand on her hip, a cocky grin surfacing even through the mist of her visor. "Never call me Iyali again. Iyali'Talaas will be fine."

The Pathfinder replied with a two-fingered salute, parting the following words unto her, "Only if you call me Ryder."

"Pathfinder Ryder?"

In that instance she knew her adventure had only just begun, and that the times to follow would be long, hard, but also invigoration. "The soon to be legend, definitely."


	13. Havarl

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Thirteen: Havarl

A new planet was their current objective. One that was originally the birthplace of the angaran people, Havarl, a lush display of wild ferns and great mountain peaks speculated back in the Milky Way galaxy, but the projections shown on the screens within the Tempest hangar bay were anything but familiar.

Deep in the Faroang system, amid the graceful sea-like currents of space auras and a grand rusted cloud that many knew to be the Scourge, a small planet did lie inbetween.

The display grew as the Tempest reached hyperspace, the wings eventually dipping to line with a neighbouring orb of space dust. From above, the world seemed alive, healthy even. The overall picture reminded the young quarian of Earth, a planet she had once been so curious about; back when humanity was only a myth to her, just like drell and hanar.

The quarian heard a gasp behind her, knowing by the distinctive flanging effect who it belonged to. "This is _home_ … our ancestors came from this system. It looks so small from here."

Iyali'Talaas tried to curb her sudden well of pity, instead choosing to remember the treachery he willingly laid without consequence. Instead of commenting she turned away, heading instead to the aft-end section of the bay where five to more ammunition crates had been unsealed. She plucked several cartridges from one of them, observed the casings through her glass eyes before slipping them into the satchel across her chest.

Jaal seemed to notice her change in stance, taking a seat along the crates beside her. "Why did you come to find me?" he asked, opening a port on his rifle and eying the mechanics within.

"Malseh Ama Val was worried," she merely said, knowing her facade of friendship needed to be retained while in the presence of the Initiative.

The angara's eyes widened at that. "Malseh? She left the city?!"

"In a way. She was worried about you."

Jaal sighed, shaking his head. "She is too young to know better. She should not have been outside the parameters of Aya. It is dangerous-"

"As dangerous as boarding an alien ship?" Iyali'Talaas closed the ammunition crates with a slam, walking back to a set of harnessed seats set by the shell of an old lifepod. Jaal followed her. "As dangerous as negotiating with aliens after what we saw with the Kett? As dangerous as doing it alone? Or as foolish?"

She slumped into her seat, quickly fumbling with the buckles across her waist.

"I did what I must for the Resistance," he explained, mirroring her actions. He picked up the waist-buckles with one hand, his other running across the straps but not quite snapping them into place. "I- hmm, I…"

She watched the display happen for several moments until the belts finally snapped into place. However, the straps lay flat across his lap, not quite tight enough to prevent injury if the landing did not go smoothly.

Iyali'Talaas rubbed a hand across her visor, then leant over the angara and pulled the straps tight. "There, that should stop you from falling out."

"I-" the angara coughed, leaning far back into his seat. "I… Thank you."

"It's fine," she began while leaving his lap, only to find his cheeks blushed a faint purple. She blinked, unsure what caused such a reaction.

"Anyway," she said, returning to her own seat. "Helping the Resistance is just one way to get you killed, Jaal Ama Darav. If that is how you wish to live your life, fine, but that is not a life worth living."

"Did you not do the same? You boarded this vessel knowing I was in danger. You risked your life for me."

She laughed. "Because I needed my ship fixed, which you promised to do. Now I have a new plan and have no need of you anymore."

Instead of offended, in which she hoped, he stared at her confused. "Then our partnership is over?"

She sighed, knowing the truth was far more complex. "I'm not sure. I'm still here for the time being, with the Pathfinder, with the Initiative. So, we will still see each other."

The two fell into an uncomfortable silence. Then, the images on the screens changed. Orbital scans showed the current layout of Havarl.

It had an orbital period of two point nine years, an atmospheric pressure of zero point eighty nine, a radius of seven thousand, one hundred and three kilometres and a surface temperature of twenty nine celsius. In all, a seemingly healthy planet. She noticed the analysis commented on mutations and maladaptive, unsustainable growth patterns, however, which caused her thoughts to falter. _How can a world have all the correct natural conditions, and then have that?_

She did not notice the angara bow his head. "I never told them about you."

She caught his gaze, a peculiar shimmer crossing the white lights of her eyes. "Sorry?"

"The aliens. I never told them about you, or your crashed ship."

She looked into his eyes and found honesty there, more honesty than she had seen in any other male in a species. Clear, reflective, like rivered pools. _How can the angara be so free, so expressive, so open to manipulation?_

She wanted to find dishonesty there, to know that the male she was next to was capable of as much exploitation as she. It was survival, it was a need, it was entertaining. With that, she would feel better. There was none, however. Just clear, earnest honesty. And she felt regret as sore as an open wound.

The quarian frowned down at her open palms. "You were never going to tell them, were you?"

"No. It hurts to know that in this instance, I was the mistrustful one. I am sorry."

"Why apologise? I'm not sure I understand."

"We angara do not hide our feelings. We celebrate them. We are taught that our feelings and beliefs should live on the outside, where they can be dealt with honestly. Because of me, you suffered. I regret not honouring our deal, and I regret causing you pain. Above all, you have helped me. For that, I owe you."

Iyali'Talaas attempted to respond, but found her confusion ever-more present. "Are all your people so honest? So expressive?"

The angara chuckled, a hearty rumble caught deep within his chest. "Why of course! It is who we are. We are a free people, connected and strong. Perhaps to you aliens, we are in ourselves alien."

"I suppose we will learn together."

The angara nodded and for the first time since she had ever known him, there was a true smile on his face. "I would like that."

"We're going in!" announced the Pathfinder over the intercom, a swift command for everyone in the hangar bay to find their seats. "Once docked, the newcomers: the quarian, turian and angara are to come with me. Drack, you too, going to need the muscle."

Iyali'Talaas spied the krogan out of the corner of her visor; an old type of reptile with tanned skin, a battered crest and a shell of yellow-striped metal for armour. A chill of fear coursed down her spine. _Muscle, indeed_.

Finally, from the ramp, tall and long-bodied strode Syrus, the patches of his old armour rewelded at the waist while the broken, disfigured crest of horns on his crown remained chipped, though the ends had been slightly oiled, glinting like a radar. It made her smile.

He noticed the quarian, a healthy grin swiftly creasing his maw. He went to sit beside her, only to notice a specific angara in his passing. He stared Jaal down but said nothing, the hint of dried blood still stained along his left mandible.

 _That's what fighting a krogan will offer you._

Iyali'Talaas shook her head when he sat, a silent plea playing across her fingers. _No more violence._

Spoken, they had, before the journey to Havarl had been laid out to them. She recalled the scolding, the very ridicule of a wise but misunderstood tempest. In the end, however, he had stitched the cracked plating along the edge of his mouth with copper wire, then turned to her, battered, bruised, scarred. _Another scar because of me._

The last of his words that night stayed with her. "No matter what, kid. Where you go, I go too."

The journey down to Havarl was an unsteady one. Along the hangar bay equipment rocked from holsters, steel clattered against steel in strapped crates and the displays staging the eyes of the windscreen momentarily flickered.

Jaal brought his wrist to his mouth. "Sending navpoint for Daar Pelaav. That's where the scientists should be." His fingers dashed along the keys to his wrist-tablet. On the screen a new area of Havarl lit up.

As the Tempest rocked in the atmosphere, a golden amber radiance surrounded the starship like a heavenly aura against the shadowed veil of the planet's incoming night sky. In a matter of heartbeats the Tempest soured over a moonlit jungle, a grey-lilac land against misty skies. The canopies and mountain tops slowly passed by underneath, and ahead the great rosy pallet of a neighbouring planet cornered the world.

But then the pilot interjected over the intercom. "Anomaly on sensors! Something big! Possibly hostile. Taking evasive action."

Iyali'Talaas clenched the armrests of her chair as the Tempest tipped sharply left, then right. Her focus remained glued to the screen, but all she saw were trees and clouds. No anomaly.

And then the anomaly appeared in a flutter of petal-like wings. _Kaeli'steiz_ , she initially thought, the use of the term _ancestors_ being the solely befitting description of such creations, for never had she seen a creature so grand in scale and size to float over a world with solely innocent grace and silken gait. The very wings were light and leaf-like, as if their bodies were the pinnacles of nature, flittering through a current of air.

Her eyes lit so bright that she nearly blinded herself. "Keelah… what are they?"

Jaal Ama Darav chuckled by her side. "Beautiful, aren't they? There are many stories told by the mothers of their grace and radiance. Still, even now when I return home, I can't quite believe their majesty. We call them dos-vesoan. Noble explorers."

No matter what her previous beliefs were of the angara, the sight of such noble creatures on their home world only furthered her need to know them more. An ache yet to be fully satisfied.

The Tempest decelerated in the wake of an open cluster. Beneath the body, flat canopies and pod-like apendiges twisted into the constructs of a town with ramps connecting them to the land beneath the trees.

Eventually, the Tempest settled into an unoccupied port enclosed by great monoliths, though the architecture did not seem angaran. When the quarian first stepped onto Havarl soil, she found that the world truly was a dark, foreboding beauty with gatherings of tall trees clustered in drooping vines, vibrant bioluminescent ferns and cupped feathered flowers.

Iyali'Talaas bent to the ground to touch the earth, only to find the roots beneath her feet followed her fingers. She curled her hand into her chest, shocked and in awe.

"I wouldn't eat the fruit if I were you," Jaal advised, treading over the flowerbeds carefully. "The same goes for fungal slime. Wash it off immediately. Beauty here can be deadly."

"Females anywhere are deadly, flat-crown," said Syrus, staring at a faraway hut, his rifle half-raised. "It's not just the flowers."

From the Tempest ramp the Pathfinder strode down to Havarl wearing a tight spacesuit of padded black and crimson straps. On the shoulder-guards was an insignia, N7, and a torch glinting from his helmet. "No time to argue, team. We've got a job to do. Let's make this quick, no wandering off or straying from the group. We stick together and we all go home."

Behind him, the krogan, Drack, sunk into the soil, the very bulk of his makeshift carapace weighing him down. Still, he squelched through the mud with a weapon raised, only halting when he met a metal bridge to scrape the muck from his boots.

Upon crossing the bridge they found themselves at the foot of Daar Pelaav Research Station. There were few angara present, far fewer than a research station should have had. Still, as the remainder of the team strode inside to speak with one of the scientists, Iyali'Talaas found herself straying outside. Instead, she chose to view the towering structure of another monolith looming over the station.

By its angular spire, mountain rocks climbed its length in jagged lines and the pink planet behind bathed it in an ominous glow.

Through the open door the quarian could overhear Jaal and the Pathfinder talk to the head scientist of the installation, recognising the mention of a missing science team and the word 'remnant'. She had to wonder if remnant were responsible for the odd structures dotting the landscape, and if they were a seperate people to the angara altogether.

Syrus placed a set of talons over her shoulder, staring distantly into the monolith. "How're you holding up, kid?"

"I'm fine. Curious, actually. Do those structures remind you of something?"

The turian clicked the rim of his specs. His small, beady eyes narrowed through the cerulean glass. "Looks old to me. Prothean, maybe?"

Iyali'Talaas had wondered the same, initially, quietly folding her arms. "I'd never found truth of the protheans venturing this far out of their solar system. They were capable of many wonders but that is something else entirely."

"And if the flat-crowns don't know what it is, then that makes it rare. Probably valuable."

The mention of credits gave her a momentary pause. _The angara may pay handsomely for such technology_. She shrugged the notion away, but the thought lingered. "Remnant. That's what Jaal Ama Darav called them when he was talking about a vault."

Syrus leaned into her shoulder, pressing his maw close to her sound processor. "Then what're we going to do then, kid?"

A wicked grin split through her visor. She unhooked her VI Equaliser slowly, instantly switching the safety off. "We go exploring."

Within a few moments the team returned to them, the Pathfinder plotting their next vantage point with his omni-tool and the krogan watching themselves and the angara very, very closely.

"Looks like the scientists aren't far from our location," the Pathfinder informed, pointing east. "If we hurry now, we should make it before the sun rises."

"I would advice caution when treading through the forest," Jaal warned, releasing the Kett rifle from the pouch along his back. "There are many dangers in the wilds."

The company soon abandoned the safety of the research station to delve under the shelter of foreign trees. They walked through the undergrowth for the majority of an hour, the silence of the forest deeply pervasive, only broken by the chilling scream of a beast far too distant to be a threat. Still, the group kept nestled together, following the lead of the Pathfinder through flooded mire and bundled stone.

Sometimes the voices of an encampment met their ears, or the crackling of bulletfire echoed far into the hills. "The Roekarr," Jaal had explained when the weaponfire felt too close. "Angaran fanatics that hate aliens. That means you."

"And you," Syrus had reminded, a slip of snark souring his tone. "You're one of us now, flat-crown. For the worse part."

Jaal scowled through the undergrowth, his rifle trained on every movement. "Yes, I suppose I am."

They eventually happened upon a line of supply crates half sunk into the mire. Within the mud, footprints trailed south. By the time the sun had begun to crest the canopy in a stark, grey light, the shadowed form of a monument ended their trail.

Imbedded into a rock face, the monument was smooth and flawless. A slanted diamond-shaped opening gave way to a corridor and through that, the machinations of another species grandly unfolded.

The ruin was only narrow, a thin glimmer into the past of an abandoned species. Walls shimmered in veins of glittering green, lumniescent like the plants that wove into the cracks. The foundations reminded Iyali'Talaas of a starship: all solid platforms and intrinsic stairways threaded in roots. By the time they had examined all that could be seen, they happened upon a sanctuary.

Frozen in shields of watery crystal, the angaran scientists stood petrified among the relics of a bygone era. Truly, they were suspended in time. True to the word of the head scientist, touching their tombs did little other than expand their cages further outward. The captured angara did not even breathe.

"I have never seen anything like this before," Jaal whispered, touching the cage of one angara, his bottom lip mid-quiver. "Ryder, you must free them."

The Pathfinder met the central point of the sanctuary, his hands just shy off the rune dials of some form of command terminal. "This place is like the vault on Eos." He snapped his hand shut, falling back. "Everyone, use your sensors. There should be glyphs along the walls, in the floors. Start searching."

As the team departed in search of the markings, Iyali'Talaas found herself still within the opening of the sanctuary, staring intently into the depths of a liquid basin just shy off the platform. The walls waved in reflection. The substance lit when her hand dared to dip down, as if in wanting. The quarian quickly pulled her hand back. A thought crossed her mind.

She spun a thread of biotic energy into her finger, then wove the glimmering rivulet into the basin. Instantly, the liquid reacted, distorting between solidity and water. She rose from the basin in amazement.

"Looks like that's it," the Pathfinder announced. The team circled back around him.

The quarian returned to the company more interested than anything else. When the Pathfinder laid his hand over the teminal once more, she expected the scientists to perish instantaneously. What she did not expect was for the Pathfinder to groan, clutch his head and withdraw his hand, only for the shields surrounding the angara to disappear in a white flash.

Jaal clutched one of his brothers as he fell, falling back onto the ground. "And then we can-" the mauve-shaded angara blinked, turning back to find himself in Jaal's arms. "I-Jaal?"

He jumped from his friend, quickly stumbling back. "I… what?! Stars, who are you?!"

All three scientists seemed to be just as puzzled, glancing between one another. One even held a branch for protection.

The Pathfinder raised his hands, then pressed a finger to his helmet, shushing the scientist. "Pathfinder Ryder with the Andromeda Initiative. I'm, well, from another galaxy. You were in some sort of stasis field but with my help, you're now free."

The scientist touched his brow, shaking his head profusely. "Impossible, how is this possible?"

"Do none of you remember getting frozen, Torvar?" Jaal asked, his brow-ridges highly quirked.

"Frozen? I don't understand, I-"

The Pathfinder raised his hands again, higher. "You better get back to the station, check you're alright. We'll help you back. No telling how these remnant fields affected you."

"Yes," Torvar muttered, taking the arm of another angara who had a limp. "Yes, I think that best."

By the time they had returned to the research station, the shadows along the forest floor had dwindled to rising mist and Havarl had taken to adopting a light drizzle of rain. The scientists limped through the land back to their home, but even injured they passed through the undergrowth like seers, twisting through brambles and bush without even a thought. It was intrinsically innate. Incredible.

When the scientists distanced themselves from the group, the quarian took her chance, halting directly in front of the Pathfinder with her hands on her hips. "How did you do that?"

The Pathfinder frowned. "Do what?"

"Connect with the remnant technology, of course. There has to be something to it."

Jaal also chimed in. "I too would like to know how you interface with the remnant."

The answer had Iyali'Talaas clutching her necklace thoughtfully. "I suppose there's no hiding it. Everyone on the Hyperion knows about it, I suppose you should too. I have an AI in my head," the human admitted, tapping the side of his helmet. "SAM. He helps with analysis, translation, encryption. It's a long story but that's how it is."

Syrus scratched his skull. "Truly? An AI, like the programming that helped the Nexus into Andromeda?"

The Pathfinder smirked. "The very same, only far more sophisticated. But it means I'm the only one who can interact with remnant. Trust me, if I could lend this power to someone else, I would. It gives quite the headache."

"I see." The quarian fell quiet, twiddling the chain of her necklace.

That continued until they stepped into the territory of Daar Pelaav.

Inside, the scientists were instantly taken to different sections of the station, given a variety of tests and experiments before allowed to be released. Most were simply confused. It was like time itself had stopped for them. Not only could they remember nothing, but they had hardly aged a day, despite being imprisoned for nearly a week.

The head scientist, Kiiran Dals, grasped the Pathfinder and hugged him. "Thank you, for saving my assistant, Torvar and my team. I must apologise for the indifferent welcome you received from me earlier, but with Havarl's decline and our threat of the Kett, you must understand my caution."

"Havarl's decline?" Iyali'Talaas asked, pushing through the crowd. The very thought of something happening to Havarl instilled a depth of concern within her. "What do you mean?"

"The basis of a cycle's research, of course. We're starting to see the same elsewhere. The planet's ecosystem is crumbling, slowly but surely. We originally believed it to be the will of nature, but then our research led to the remnant monoliths, where there should be two activated, there was only one. Until now."

Torvar, the mauve-shaded angara from before, stepped between himself and the Pathfinder, a worrying frown on his face. "There are two monoliths, yes, but there should be three. Perhaps the Pathfinder can re-activate the third monolith, like he did the second when freeing us. Perhaps then Havarl will be spared."

The Pathfinder folded his arms, pressing his hand to where his chin would be if not for the helmet. "It was the same when we colonised Eos. There was a vault, a central network that with the right frequency in three monoliths changed the atmosphere. The planet has been stable ever since.

"But where is this third monolith?"

Kiiran Dals cupped her crown in her hands. "Lost, I'm afraid, Pathfinder Ryder. There is no third monolith anymore. There hasn't been for centuries."

The features of the Pathfinder fell utterly sour. "Lost?! How do you lose a monolith? Especially one so important to your people?"

Before an argument could ensue, Torvar coughed into his fist. "We've never tried asking the sages. There could be something in their oral history. It could help us uncover the third monolith, if it still exists."

"Monoliths, sages, oral history…" the Pathfinder groaned. "Give me something concrete. Can these sages help?'

Kiiran Dals shook her head. "They're superstitious hermits that don't care for modern angara. You know that. What use could they be? Going to them would be a waste of valuable resources, not to mention our time that you only just got back."

"You saw the projections for the planet's survival, Kiiran!" Torvar insisted. "What do we have to lose?'

"Our sanity, Torvar. And prescious time for research."

Iyali'Talaas found herself curious over the mention of sages, and pressed the issue. "Who are these sages to you, exactly?"

"Angara that believe isolation will maintain the purity of our histories. By preventing contamination by modern thought. Completely basic sense. In their minds."

The Pathfinder interjected. "I don't have time to ask sages for possible intel. I need assurance. Is there nothing else?"

"As far as we're aware, nothing," the scientist replied, disappearing from the group to return to her desk.

Torvar quietly hummed to himself, his wide eyes innocently staring at the species of the once Milky Way. "I had seen grey and spikey aliens in the forest not too long ago. They came from the stars, but smoke billowed over the mountain. Perhaps they had seen the third monolith before their crash?"

That caught the Pathfinder's attention. "Grey? Spikey?"

Torvar nodded, gesturing to Syrus who stood at the far end of the station. "Yes, like him over there."

Syrus paused in wiping his rifle with a cloth, glancing between everyone in the room with an expression that shone with egotism and vanity. "I doubt any turians could look this good, flat-crown, but if there are turians nearby we better see where they are before they get themselves killed. My species happen to have a saying of scout first, ask questions later. They'll likely shoot anything that doesn't give a straight answer. Military background and all that."

"If the turian ark is nearby they take priortiy," the Pathfinder decided.

Jaal scowled. "What of my homeland's decline? Ryder, that is also important."

The human waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure Havarl will be fine until we get back. It isn't like we're leaving the planet."

"Yes, but if we started our search now, the better Havarl will be. I've heard of the pilgrimage. We should at least give it a chance."

Iyali'Talaas listened to the argument that ensued, wondering herself if meeting such sages might help in her understanding of Havarl. The least she would get would be a better view of the planet. The finding of the turian ark led her closer to the Nexus community, and being anywhere near that starship was the last thing she wanted.

"What if we were to split up into groups?" she asked. "I could go to meet these sages. The Pathfinder could go to find the turian ark. That way both are sorted."

"The sages dwell on the top of a remnant structure, you would not be able to get there without Pathfinder Ryder's capability," said Torvar, lightly scratching the flab of flesh along his crown.

"Not necessarily," muttered Jaal, raising an unmeshed finger. "We could take a shuttle to the pinnacle. Travelling to the sanctum by air is forbidden, but to climb from a short distance is attainable. That is, if you are alright with heights, Iyali?"

Her voice blossomed in confidence. "I would be a terrible pilot if I feared heights, Jaal Ama Darav. A short climb should be alright, if it is not along the the side of the monument. The metal is too smooth. We would slide to our deaths."

"There is a grove I have heard angara use to make the pilgrimage. There is much debris and the wilds have claimed much of the remnant that lie there. It will not be easy but we must try."

"Did the turians seem frantic to you, Torvar? Dangerous or not themselves?" the Pathfinder inquired.

The angara bit his lower lip. "I believe they may have ingested the natural fauna of the land. They seemed dazed when I found them, irrational. I would not go if I were you."

The Pathfinder sighed. "I knew you were going to say that. If they were to hear one of their own kind, though…" he turned to Syrus, who seemed to already know what he had planned.

"Oh no," the turian began, striding into the circle with his rifle aimed at the ceiling. "I'm not letting the flat-crown stay with the kid while I go and play reunion with old colleagues. You've got another turian on your ship. Use her, not me."

The human raised a single eyebrow. "She's needed on the Tempest and you're already out in the field. And to be honest I don't feel right having my three newcomers going off on their own together. Doesn't say much in the spirit of trust, does it?. This'll prove your really on my side. And you'll help us return Ark Natanus to the Nexus. Seems like a good deal to me."

 _So much for democracy_ , Iyali'Talaas thought, though she saw the intelligence in such a demand. They were new to the Tempest after all, had known each other far longer then they had known him. Plots and schemes worked in tandom when the like-minded were alone. Always had.

Iyali'Talaas drifted over to Syrus, nudging him with her hand. "I'll be fine, Syrus. Do not worry."

His gaze softened behind his specs. He would have reached out for her if not for the company. His mandibles clicked in indecision, his maw curling back with a flicker of cracked fangs.

She tugged her necklace purposefully, hinting that though they may be apart they could still communicate. He would have to let her go.

"We will be back before you even knew I was away," she chuckled, twirling back to stand next to Jaal.

The turian sighed, briefly scratching the back of his neckplates.

Jaal clapped loudly, sending the entire station on edge. "Then it is settled. Iyali and I shall climb to Mithrava, and you will go find your t-uri-an ark. Once you have spoken to Efvra, Pathfinder. What you have done here with the monoliths will be the evidence Efvra needs to see you as an asset. We should make communication at once. On the Tempest, maybe?"

…

As the sun on Havarl set and disappeared, as twilight deepened into nightfall, the awareness of the quarian fell out of sync from the motion that was Daar Pelaav Research Station, instead focusing on the world of dark, cloudy sky and misted night air. She heard the calls of foreign creatures nestled within the forest, spied the first droplets of an evening rain speckle her visor.

She would make Havarl better. Not for credits, not for glory, though the two were still highly valued. She would not do it for the angara or even for the sake of the mantas in the sky, though beautiful they were. She would do it for the lust of a lifetime, the thrill that was a new dawn.

The quarian slipped a hand into her satchel, taking from the confines a blackened lexicon illuminated in the technology of remnant. She pressed her other hand to her mask, releasing the clasps on it slowly, ever so slowly. A hiss allowed some semblance of Havarl's air to kiss her skin, cold and damp. The mask returned just as swiftly.

She would do it for her own selfish desires and for the potential to feel a new world on her skin.


	14. Faith in Stories

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Fourteen: Faith in Stories

Angaran cruisers were quite different to the ones she knew. Similar in structure, though the row of seats displayed within the cockpit were crafted for wider hips, longer legs, broader arms. As a quarian, her people were already blessed with wide extremities, but compared to that of the angara, she sunk into her seat like a child in her father's favourite armchair. The supports did not fully brace her chest, either, leaving her breasts and arms tight together, almost painfully.

"Tell me about these sages," she said as the distant land of Havarl blurred beneath her window.

"What would you like to know?" Jaal returned, a curious glint within his tinted monacle.

"What do they believe in? Is there a dominating religion or are there many?"

He chuckled. "I never took you for a philosopher, but yes. There are many variations. The essential tenet is: after we die, we are reincarnated. We evolve to keep our families strong, our loved ones stronger. Born from what was before. Blessed to be better than before. In this way, we live on."

"That makes a lot of sense, especially when you display your emotions so freely. You share together, so you believe you are strong together. Interesting." She tapped her findings into her omni-tool, storing the log within a section of personal history. "And do you believe in those tenets, or are you a disbeliever?"

"Hmph, such questions. I suppose no…" he frowned, "yes…" he chuckled, "sometimes. It might not be the same for your people. Sahuna, my true mother, is a firm believer, as are many of my brothers."

He leaned down over one knee, resting his arm over the cap. "And of you, Iyali? What do you believe in?"

The quarian's fingers settled along her wrist, the question instilling a flicker of uncertainty. "I'm not sure if I believe in anything. The stars, maybe? They are a constant, real, powerful. If you're asking whether I believe in a deity or in fate, the truth is no. Not truly. The universe is how it is. You have to make the best of what you're offered."

The angara nodded, humming a thoughtful tune. "A realist, then. You and Efvra would get along well."

"The Resistance leader?"

"Yes. He does not care for beliefs either. But after what the Kett did to him, I cannot blame him for it."

Iyali'Talaas' gaze glazed over Havarl and into the sky. "They have hurt every angara in some way, haven't they?"

Sadness lowered his voice incredibly. "Always. Perhaps you think us weak? I cannot see the thoughts in your mind but you are intelligent. You know that the Kett are ruthless. They are masters of knowing how and when to strike. And my people… my people didn't realise until it was too late."

"I…" he took in a deep breath. "Do you really want to hear these things? They are painful."

She quietly shook her head. "If they are too painful then do not share, Jaal Ama Darav. Keep them close and guarded."

 _Do not share your weaknesses. Once your weakness is found, anyone can claim you._

That in itself was a tenet, learned many years ago by a different quarian too naive and young to know better. Her fingers settled along her thigh. Even beneath her armour she could sense the difference in pattern over her skin. Markings that not even a decade could smoothen. None were from a bullet.

The shuttle followed the remnant river for the due course of half an hour; a natural verdure of pure obsidian with the wilds of Havarl seeping into the untamed reservoir held deeply below. Along the dipped valleys and collosal mountain peaks the temple to Mithrava lay just beyond; an extravagant spire of metal columns speckled in the tiny lights of remnant robotics.

The shuttle landed just shy off the pinnacle. The great monument loomed over the two to the pilgrimage in imposing extravagance, tilted ever so slightly their way so that should the earth beneath the world crumble, the very tower might collapse upon them.

As the shuttle begun to float from the platform, the tail of Jaal's cape quivered and flared. He cupped his crown to the sky where a trail of remnant ruins clustered together into what seemed to be a long, uneven stairway. The excess river poured from an open port and the very spire itself hummed in the doused green of pulsing veins.

The angara beckoned the quarian closer. "Come, the grove is not far. The pilgrimage awaits."

"Do many angara take the pilgrimage to Mithrava?" Iyali'Talaas asked, taking an offered hand in climbing the first step.

"Fewer each year. I, myself, have never been up here before. I have heard of the sages but never gave them much thought. They are suspicious and recluse. Four families parted Havarl after the Scourge disaster. There they have remained."

Iyali'Talaas grunted on the third step up, surprised to find the metal so level, so steep.

"Is a story not worthless if it isn't shared?" he asked, pausing on the fifth step up. "What is the point to keep a story hidden? They may as well not exist at all."

"I find hidden stories far more interesting than the ones known." They settled upon a ledge, the very breath of Havarl quivering in a subtle wind beneath them. "It's natural for us to want to know the unknown, I think. Why do your people keep trying to understand the remnant? Not only because they affect you but also because they are a part of history. Maybe not your history but still, would you be interested in them if they were known?"

Jaal stared over the open valley, the lush hue of many vibrant flora intermeshing with the shaded foundations.

"I'm interested in you," he said, a keen glint in his monacle. The same from the shuttle. "Why you came here. Why you wish to help the angara. Why you are helping to save Havarl. I know you mention your ship. Could it not be more?"

Her focus shifted to the horizon. _Yes, there was more. So much more. None you can ever know, though._

They continued up the stairway, curving around the thick base of the monument to climax at the sheltered cove of an overgrown grove. The depths of a waterfall rushed along the main section to the left, while on the right the thick trunks of intertwined trees netted the entire face of the remnant structure. The vines and climbing roots curled so far up that only the glow of a faint light could be seen at the tip.

Iyali'Talaas pressed a hand to her chest, instantly feeling queezy. Never had she been afraid of heights. The slope of those branches, however…

She looked around, only to find that Jaal had already begun to make the climb. She ambled over to a thick cluster and pressed her legs into the mounds. With her hands braced ahead of her and her toes secure in the nets, she slowly worked her way up to meet him.

After sometime the landscape swam below her. The water of the falls became a distinct cloud of luminous green. The natural grace of the grove blended into a dim grey patterned in complex swirls and pale mist. The vines cracked and snapped as her hands continued to rise gently upward, her knees kicking her chest on every third grasp of a branch.

The loose flaps of her veil stirred around her. In that moment she was glad that the force of the wind was only minor, for she dared not imagine what a storm would have brought.

On the final climb she saw the end line of the spire grow into a railing snapped by plants. It was passed the grand backside of the angara, of course, but even beneath him she could only marvel at the strength of his shoulders and calfs. He shimmied up the roots with a natural fluidity.

For herself, she was thankful Syrus was not there to see her shameful climbing technique. More than once she had lost her footing and nearly succumbed to the depths of Mithrava's falls.

She shifted her limbs this way and that, watching as her shadow struggled along the surface of the tower. The quarian grasped the crooked ends of a broken remnant banister, using her feet to gain leverage onto the ledge first. Her world became almost vertical, but with a strong push she would make it to the platform just fine.

Jaal was already marvelling the view below them. Then, he heard a snap.

The quarian did not have time to scream. In a blink the steady pole keeping her balanced cracked under the strain of a rusted bend. Her hand slipped from the railing and the glow of the monument immediately disappeared; replaced by a growing valley and battering wind.

Before her plunge her arm jerked in sudden balance. Her heels teetered on the edge of nothingness. Her toes clamped onto the platform hard. One hand drifted in the valley. The other was held strong by webbed fingers and a thick thumb.

Iyali'Talaas whimpered.

"Hold on!" the angara groaned, his other hand braced onto a firm pedestal. "Iyali, hold on!"

Her body wavered in the air. It would only take one unfortunate gust of wind and her feet would loose their grip.

"I am going to pull you back. Use your hand to grab the rail." Jaal dug his front foot into the webbed platform, his whole body lowering as he crouched and leaned back.

Just as she felt her weight begin to shift, she immediately screamed. "No! Jaal, no! I-I'm going to fall!"

The angara stopped, grunting under the strain. "You will not fall! I will not let you go!"

He attempted once more, using all the strength in his arm to haul her forward. The extended rail was just out of reach. She needed only to grasp it, but her eyes remained locked onto the valley below. She was paralysed.

"Iyali, look at me!"

Her visor snapped to him. Twin lights shifted between him and the platform - stars lost and confused. Another whimper filled the space between them. "I-I cannot, I-"

"You can and you will." The angara fell far back, his front leg now fully flat. "Trust me!"

In a time barely accountable, the quarian had swung her own arm round and managed to scrape some essence of holding onto the metal sticking out. Then her fingers slipped from it - it was a soaked railing yet to dry.

In one harsh tug Iyali'Talaas was thrown over the edge. She felt the cold slab of the platform pound her belly, her arm spasm to her breasts. Her entire being collapsed.

Strong hands pulled her, lifted her, held her; arms smothered in a rubbery black enfolded her. The scent of perfumed oils: lavender, plum, orange blossom, flavours of a forest filled her breathing apparatus, fluttering into her nose. There was a hazy inhale and then her holder begun to vibrate, a slight tingle that warmed the very anxiety from her bones.

Her own biotic energy intermingled with the steady rhythm, coaxing the heightened nerves of her muscles to lax. Her being became palpable, fluid in his embrace.

Her chest silenced to a steady beat and her breaths settled to a calmer tide. With her eyes closed she felt herself begin to drift, to gradually descend into unconsciousness until only the light patter of the rain could be heard, tap, tap, tapping bare leaves above her.

Fingers stroked circles into her left shoulder. As the essence of calm faded from her, the awareness of her surroundings grew. Her eyes fluttered open while her encased cheek rose and fell against the breathing of another.

She awoke to lips on her forehead.

"You never let me go," she whispered, her very voice awe in itself.

A breathy laugh fogged her visor. Jaal Ama Darav only tightened his hold. "I promised."

She leaned into his shoulder, surprised by her own need for comfort. _Why was he so warm?_ He made little movement otherwise, merely continued to stroke patterns into her veils.

"Your tingling," she realised, quietly raising her head.

"Yes," he chuckled, "it is a natural energy all angara possess. We use it to connect with each other, to communicate, to feel empathy or…" he paused, his eyes half-lidded. "Be close."

Her lips drifted apart. Even between the glass he was so close to her. She saw the crease of his cheeks in his smile. The slight discolouration of his iris', blue intoned with a shy gold. The tanned indent of blemishes across the front of his crown, a plum-coloured contrast to the remaining pink-purple skin. And a healed gash splitting the fold over his neck into two parts. _Imperfect, but beautiful._

The quarian shuddered, a nervousness kindling within her once more.

She rose shakily to her feet, using his arms for support. "We should go to Mithrava," she suggested, pointing to the high crest at the top of the monument. "The sages may already know we're here."

"Yes. Of course," Jaal replied, clearing his throat. "Be warned. I'm not sure how they will react to seeing an alien."

"So long as I do not look like the Kett, I'm sure we will be fine."

They circled the monument for another half hour, the complexities of remnant technology still hiding their smallest of secrets. More fauna were climbed, more platforms passed over until they finally found the last stairway that reached the epicentre.

Upon the crown of Mithrava, a colony of angara were present. Plants the style of willows hooded the town in great feathered crests and rope-like fingers. Mushroom domes caught the patters of raindrops, pooling them in shallow middles. A heathered mist bathed the metal floor almost forebodingly and much of the tower held alters of older stone engraved in spirals.

One such stone caught Iyali'Talaas by surprise. Four pillars the reminiscence of remnant monoliths protected the battle-worn image of an angara. Only, unlike those she had seen, the statue had a fringe of horns rather than folds of flesh over his neck and one arm severed from the joint. There was a sceptre also in his left hand.

The quarian waved a hand over her omni-tool, searched through her logs. An image of a similar structure rose as a hologram over her arm. The statue and the image were one and the same. It was identical to what was found in Aya's forest.

All of a sudden the silence shattered in a harmonious shudder. From the skies congregated dos-vesoan floated over Mithrava in unimaginable grace, drifting through the luminance of the angaran lights to disappear into the valleys below the town.

Iyali'Talaas wished solely to follow them, the mystery of the statue forgotten, but a monk stepped into her place. "Who are you that come to this sanctuary?" he asked, dressed in ashen robes with a ring and tears decorating his face. _No other angara had such paint._

"Are you one of the sages?" the quarian inquired, sensing his detailed runes of worship likely lead to a yes.

"I am First Sage Esmus, leader of the clan on Mithrava. I see you are alien, but you are not Kett. You come with one of our modern brothers. Are you a threat?"

Jaal stepped forward, guiding the quarian behind him with an open hand. "No, brother, we are not a threat. We have come seeking help."

"Help?" the Sage blinked. "You have come seeking enlightenment?"

"No, we have come to see Havarl healed. Our birthplace, restored. We are looking for a third monolith. We were told you could help us find it."

The Sage raised his chin, steepled his hands and closed his eyes. "On Mithrava, we have accepted Havarl's eventual decline. As should you. Tampering with the monoliths will only bring destruction down on the few angara that remain. If it is the will of Havarl to fall, we will not stand in its way."

Iyali'Talaas tried to see the sense in their ways but simply found it ludicrous. "If it is the will for the planet to fall then what further destruction will our tampering do?"

"You are alien. I do not expect you to understand. But to linger in the past is dangerous. A person may become fixed on what was, and their soul consequently stagnated. If you choose this path, this may happen to you, brother."

Jaal glanced to the ground, then back to the sage. "This is our birthplace. Our families still linger. I will not see them fall if I can help it."

The Sage sighed. "Then it is your decision." He turned back to the statue, lowering on one knee to claim a text from its pedestal. The monk flipped through the scriptures without haste, mumbling variations of holy writ until his finger settled on a page.

"There was one, long ago, who had knowledge on a third monolith," he said, gesturing to the statue. "Zorai. A champion of the angara from before the Scourge. The histories describe him as both scholar and soldier. He travelled the stars and far away places. There is even mention of him having knowledge of the remnant, and the third monolith. We have known for sometime that Zorai's soul has returned and could be made to remember what it knew, but we have no contact with it.

"An object, an heirloom, tied closely to that bloodline could cause the memories to resurface. Souls return within families, after all. Zorai's remains in a Roekaar, Taavos. He recently returned to Havarl for a mission."

Jaal's hands clenched beside him. "Roekaar…" he growled lowly. "This may be difficult."

Iyali'Talaas grasped Jaal's shoulder and turned him further around. "The fanatical group? Could you not help with them, Jaal Ama Darav?"

"Our relationship is complicated. They won't like me helping you."

"I will send you the coordinates to the artifact, brother," said the sage, returning the text to the pedestal. "But be warned. If Havarl is truly a lost cause, let the planet die in peace."

The Sage left to a hollowed-out section of Mithrava. Terminals and data streams flickered in his wake.

While the Sage remained occupied the quarian took the time to sift through her images, linking each to the statue of Zorai. The details were indescribable. Though the one in the town had been sorely weathered the one in Aya still retained a face, a pattern, an identity. What she also realised when swiping the dust from the alter was that underneath it was made from the same metals as the monument.

The Sage returned with a piece of parchment. "Our technology is limited here, but I trust this will serve you well," he said, handing it to Jaal.

Jaal tilted the parchment from side to side, then gazed up into the clouds. "I will be able to navigate once we reach the forest. Thank you, Esmus, for your help."

The Sage bowed low and turned to leave. Though before his robe had touched the stairway, the quarian had called his name. "This statue," she said, "of Zorai. You called him an explorer. Would it be possible for other relics to found on other worlds of him?"

The lips of the Sage rose. "A sharp eye. We are not the first families to settle on other worlds, and _keep_ to ourselves. Before the Scourge, many would have revered Zorai for his teachings and wisdom. It would not surprise me to know other relics had been created for him. He was and is what the angara, both old and modern, strive to become."

He gestured to another statue sheltered under the canopy of an old fungal spore. Beneath the altar, he translated, "After the Scourge destroyed our civilisation, chaos and fear ruled, and we lost sight of our true selves. Jephro took us away from that influence, so that we could remember the past with clarity.

"Clear hearts know who we were once, and clear eyes see who we are now."

"Then why choose to let your home world die?" she demanded as the rain begun to pour, spluttering from the stone. "Why give up?"

"Because, like Zorai, we know when the time for fighting is at an end. Zorai disappeared from our oral histories because he knew his part to play in our legends was over. Jephro at his eightieth year laid down his spear to plant, to sew, to reap. He closed our doors to all that would dare question our beliefs through false memory. In this, we remain pure. Our souls free to cross when our time nears its end."

"But if there is no Havarl, your souls will not pass down to anymore generations."

The Sage nodded sadly. "If that is the way, then that is how it must be." His eyes rose to the sky. "The storm is clearing. You may stay for sometime then you must leave Mithrava. My people will show you the way to the land below."

As the rain begun to settle into a light drizzle and First Sage Esmus departed in a sweep of white cloak, the quarian was left to ponder on their conversation with her omni-tool swishing to a close.

Her eyes lingered on the statue of Jephro for sometime before she decided to warily lie on the edge of a stone step. Jaal sat and stretched his legs out beside her.

Mithrava had no walls higher than the waist, and so from all directions the forests of Havarl could be witnessed shuddering in the evening. There were many things she saw, deep in the horizon of the west. The far light of the setting sun over the sharp corners of the hills was her favourite, like the dim glow of a distant fire.

To the east she saw the pink crescent of the neighbouring planet, shaded halfly in raincloud. Grand, barren, magical. She wondered briefly if, like reincarnation, the crescent once inspired generations of warriors, for it dominated the sky like a shield. Or if instead it inspired countless dreams among the angara, turning their minds towards the stars.

She wondered if those angara would have fought to save their world, or if they too would have let it vanish from Heleus. Dos-vasoen also crossed the sky, their black wings swallowing the clouds in their passing. It hurt her heart to see them in such a way, knowing the threat the Kett and remnant posed to them. Some fled to the faraway mountains, fading like ashen petals.

They would be ash if Havarl fell to plunder.

"I'm not sure I understand," the quarian said, her elbows on knees and hands under her chin. "How can these people accept the downfall of your planet?"

"I wonder the same," Jaal answered. "I wonder how they can let their sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers die in a war they ignore. I never knew they would do the same to their home world. That is why I disagree with Esmus."

Iyali'Talaas stared openly at the high streaks of clouds trailing the sky like spindrift, though her attention shifted between them and the mantas. "Quarians back from where I came from had a similar war. They grew ambitious in their technology and in doing so created a race of sentients to do their bidding. I'm not sure what went wrong, who murdered who or which side decided their superiority was the better. It ended in the quarians leaving their home world and living in starships."

Her fingers flicked the cold metal along her left arm, the sound filling her with a hollow emptiness. "Our immune systems degraded over the generations, which is why we wear these enviro-suits."

She knew she should have sewn her lips shut after that, for the angara knew too much. There was something with him being so close by that prompted explanation, however. Perhaps it was the honesty he shared a day prior. Perhaps it was the care she had seen in the angara so far. Perhaps it was the instant connection they had when she almost plummeted to her death that prompted her new express of truth.

Perhaps it was the feeling of for once not being alone with her thoughts.

"Their war with the geth was so long that I never understood why they wanted to return to Rannoch. From the stories many of them couldn't even remember it's appearance. I wondered, if there are so many other worlds out there, why settle for just one? Why not set roots in another world and forget their war with the geth if it meant their children living? I always saw quarians as a foolish species, excluding myself. Severing me from the universe. I blamed them for what I had become."

She placed a hand over her chest, unable to feel anything but the rise and fall of her heart. No skin, no warmth, no comfort. Not like he gave her when they embraced. "I have met geth too, you know," she whispered, curling a finger around her necklace. "They are not so bad.

"Now, looking over Havarl, I think I'm beginning to understand why the quarians wished so badly to return. If Rannoch was like this, I would never wish to leave."

Within she felt the crisp warm droplet of a tear slip down her cheek. She wished to wipe it aside, hide her weakness, yet again her suit prevented her from doing even such a basic thing. _I am no better than a machine striving to feel mortality._

Even if she could not feel she could sense, and she could sense the approaching proximity of the angara beside her. Still, she did not shuffle away.

"Do you miss your home?" the angara asked, his hand just shy of her thigh.

Her hand slowly came to rest on the edge of the stone. The question made her scoff. "It was never my home, Jaal Ama Darav. Just an open universe trying to claim my next adventure."

"And that is why you came to Heleus? For another adventure?"

"I like to think so. In truth, yes. If there are other worlds like Havarl, though, I may never wish to explore again."

Surprise stilled her breath for a heartbeat, for she never thought she would ever utter such words. _Would I truly never adventure again if I had a place on Havarl?_ She could not find an answer.

"If Rannoch was like Havarl," she said as the hand of the angara came to cup hers, " and its people as kind as you, then I may have been a different person. I might have liked that Iyali'Talaas. Instead of who I am now."

Jaal gently turned their cupped hands over, laying them flat against each other. Their hands were not so different. Hers held two long fingers and a thumb. His held three webbed and a thumb. Together, they melded almost perfectly.

"I like the Iyali you have become," he said, his voice a low purr in the night. "To know another would be a pity for the gift you are today."

Another tear slipped down her cheek, but that time she did not wish to hide it. It was pointless, though.

He would never see her face behind her mask. She had spent the entire six hundred years of her journey to Andromeda hoping to end the problem quarians cursed her with. And when she eventually had a chance to free herself from her enviro-suit, she had almost died in the Nexus medical bay.

Her other hand traced along the scar under her arm. The bumps of the welded armour still felt new.

 _The one miracle Messenger could not help me with._

Her hand drifted from the angara's even though his fingers tried to reconnect them. She stood tall with her back to him, her own knowledge of relationships, friendship and otherwise locking her emotions away once more.

"I am sorry, Jaal Ama Darav," she whispered, so quiet that not even she could hear. "I am sorry."

...

Oh gosh I have been busy this weekend writing and posting these chapters. I'm finally up to speed with the story. I have an exam this and next week so I'm not sure how long it may be for another update, but I wanted to get to at least the stage where feelings for Jaal and Iyali are starting to surface. I also wanted to get a few of her troubles out in the open so... dramaaaaa

Hope this chapter was okay and I cannot wait to write the next.

Thank you to heavenlycondemned and ptlacky for the comments, they mean a lot :D I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!


	15. Sorrow

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Fifthteen: Sorrow

Ark Natanus never landed on Havarl.

Life pods had. On the images returned, black shards of ashened shrapnel had been imbedded within the earth, while the deeper sections of tainted steel glowed in forest roots that tangled within the latches. Where the turian ark was, no one knew. Only the Hyperion had returned to the Nexus.

Arks Natanus, Leusinia and Paachero were as silent as the very expanse of Heleus.

There were survivors. A few from the lifepods that docked in Daar Pelaav until a passing cruiser could take them home. She had witnessed their shaken forms just beyond the Tempest. Many were besmirched in blood, battered, the plates on their faces seared from a great blaze. Others held an arm or leg in a greyed bandage. One had no legs at all.

Cruel though it was, she was thankful that she had never been assigned to any of the arks. She may have never witnessed Heleus freely, or at all.

But as the days drew on and the outcome of her pilgrimage caught ear, bitter news quickly followed. She awoke to an argument beyond her barracks one night, through the whistling snores of her turian draped over the top bunk. She remembered pressing her helmet close to the door; waiting with bated breath for an answer.

"I'm sorry, Jaal," the Pathfinder had said, his tone itself stern cliffs before an inevitable squall. "The remnant are dangerous, and I can't lose the only angaran ambassador I have when our negotiations haven't even taken place. I thank you for the intel, but until I know more about the remnant I'm going to have to ask you to stay on the ship."

"But, Ryder," she heard the angara defy, imagining his agape mouth and unwavering stare. "This is my history, my people, my _culture_! Havarl is our birthplace. My family live here, my loved ones! I have as much right to save my homeworld as you to protect of your people. Y-You can't just leave me here!"

The Pathfinder sighed, likely rubbing a blackened brow. "I know you're a capable fighter, Jaal. Against the Kett, I have no doubt. But with tensions high as they are, I can't afford to lose you. You're our only tie to the angara. Think of your Resistance, Jaal. They need you alive."

There was a long quiet before the angara spoke again, his voice far more levelled. "This will not show strength to the Resistance. Leaving me out of the fight will only lead to questions. You _need_ me. I must come with you."

"You're right. I do need you. Alive. With most of the terrain uncovered I don't know the planet well enough to guarantee your safety. I'm sorry, but my order stands. Stay here. I expect you to follow it."

A thud knocked the Tempest wall, hard. Iyali'Talaas felt the vibration through the door. Her hand quickly cupped her neck. "I don't understand. You allowed me to go to Mithrava."

"Yes, to see monks! When I heard about the trip I thought of a pleasant stroll, perhaps a little sight-seeing. A small incline. Not to go skydiving off of Havarl's highest cliff!" The Pathfinder groaned, fingers loosely holding his nose. "I'll reconsider my decision when our relationship with your people is stable. For now, you're too valuable an asset. I'm sorry."

The last she heard of the argument was the angara's low growl, "You will regret this, Ryder," before the slam of his door silenced all.

Never would Iyali'Talaas have pictured a human commander to have a spine. No heart, most definitely. His intentions could have been pure, though she doubted it. Jaal Ama Darav was most likely a pawn in a galactic game, just like she was. That was until their usefulness was at an end.

It was the way of the universe. All life forms knew it at some point or another. She had seen it plenty of times in the downtrodden slums once used for a fortnightly haven. The wheel of the universe kept turning. Those beneath stayed in the slums, those on the top remained elite. In the hierarchy of command there was no difference.

Unless, of course, there was rebellion. She longed to rebel herself, but calmed her eager mischief, for a while.

Her frustration lingered on the little reward. Surely the quest to Zorai was far more indentured to her than a human who took her credit. She had even thought on leaving the Tempest on her own to see if the remnant ruins just happened to be open, but she knew that would not be true. The greatest secrets were always the hardest to crack.

In the end she had learned what she could of Zorai in angaran legend. The pile of notes claimed a percentage of the memory in her omni-tool.

 _No, the glory to save Havarl is not mine,_ she thought, a sad frown on her lips. _So long as Havarl is saved, that is all that matters._

Her glory lay elsewhere. Perhaps on the iced planet of Voeld once their missions had been concluded. She made a note in her personal log to return to Havarl once the Messenger Mark II had been mended. She wished to sleep under the stars to the lull of the dos-vasoen. The Tempest was too large and too far for the song to reach her cabin. A pity.

Early in the afternoon when most of the crew had left the cruiser, Iyali'Talaas had slunk from the barracks to halt upon Jaal's door. Inside she heard the rumble of machinery, the crank of a hinge, the clink of tools.

Her knuckles knocked once, twice. Two halves parted and between she was greeted by the moisture-smeared face of a male who had spent far too long rummaging through dirt and oil to tell the time of day.

"Oh," he said, his blue eyes sagged and wary. Upon her, they brightened into moonlight. "Please, come in."

There were patches of grime dotting his cheeks like freckles. She hummed a soft tune and ducked under his left arm, her attention soon a shimmer of light dancing across his quarters.

The hold stank in various smells the further in she walked. Salt, iron, powder, even oil reached her breathing apparatus first, yet on the second whiff she caught the sweet, cloying melange of fruit and myriad of dry spices famous on Aya, each bundled in crates to her right. The last was the intermingle of pleasant scented perfume, reminding her of pink flowers, vialed in shelves at the end of the room. A very odd mingle of musks that had her nose crinkling in all manner of directions.

She twirled around the room absentmindedly, her mind taking note of the schematics, manifestos and holograms glinting across the walls and tables. "You settled within a workshop," she said sounding surprised. She really ought not have been. A workshop to him was as homely as a shuttle to her.

"Yes," he coughed, a rosy shade blossoming his skin.

She stood in the middle of the room, observing Jaal shift round the edges, fiddling with screwdrivers and scrap metal, tweaking spare bolts as well as dismembered pistols. He straightened a bent sign hung over the counter, collected the smaller screws when he thought her not looking. "You know I like to tinker. Being here was the closest place to home I could find."

Her gaze settled upon a bedroll far in the corner, cluttered in a den of desks and terminals, placed upon an inflated rim. It was extensive, grey and gold striped. It seemed far more comfortable than the chromium that passed for her mattress. She even prodded it with a finger. _Soft?_

With a hand placed along the foam, she perched the end. Firm along the pillows, cushioned along the rest. _Interesting_.

Jaal continued to tidy his quarters, piling scrap and tools into poorly clambered stacks. "I don't show people these things," he muttered under his breath, twisting from her. There was a helm in his arms, beetle-like with antennas and a sloped front.

She reached out and softly brought it into her lap. Painted black in all corners, the helmet truly was an oddity to her. Unlike her own that had a subtle grace and elegance to the design, the one she held was a robust mound of meshed fragments. Some held the hint of radiant design. Other areas, particularly the rim to the inside, was plated with shuttle fragments and heat-singed bolts. The mechanics and technology within were what truly made it a force to be reckoned with.

Fibre optics, sensors. It was the little circuitry that made the wearer a deadly opponent. "Who did this belong to?"

The angara snarled, his top lip curled back. "It belonged to a Roekaar." He sighed, wiping moisture from his neck. "The Pathfinder was recently attacked. This is one of the pieces to have returned. I'm trying to find a sensor, to hack their signal and determine when a next ambush may occur."

Iyali'Talaas sighed into the glass, having seen her own pink visor in the reflection. _I am not glass,_ she reminded herself, placing the Roekaar helm beside her own. She marvelled at the size. "Your people have big heads."

Jaal's hands faltered along the table. His fingers just out of reach from a peculiarly wrought crystal bauble. "Does that mean our intelligence is also… _big?_ "

"If that is how you wish to interpret it."

Jaal stood before her crossed legs, his great hands twitching along his thighs, as if he wished to reach out and touch. "Your head is awfully small and strange, except when far too large and chitinous. Like your Syrus. With you I'm not sure what to think. Your mask is small so you must be small underneath it. But it doesn't mar your intellect. Impressive."

She noticed the sudden presence when he shifted, weighing the mattress along her left-hand side. The helm was soon placed between them.

Iyali'Talaas fingered the fringe of her shawl, attempting to recall the past day. "So, tell me about the Roekaar. I remember First Sage Esmus mentioned Zorai's descendant, Torvaar, was one of them?

"If he is, it could be troubling." Jaal stared down at his hands, a troubling glimmer distorting the natural blue of his eyes. "I know their leader. Akksul. We studied together under our mentor, the Moshae. She was a brilliant mentor. Open, honest, intelligent. She would never admit to favourites. But unlike me, he was a good student. The best, actually. He naturally took to her teachings. She marvelled his spirit.

"He would have made a valuable leader, scientist. But he was captured by the Kett, forced into a labour camp for a year."

"His reason for hating aliens, I presume?"

"Unfortunately so. He escaped without our effort. Since his return, he has not been the same. His study in remnant was forgotten. His hatred for aliens is now his legacy. He only cares on destroying the Kett, and now you."

Jaal's eyes met hers. "Worse, he is not the type to follow orders. The Moshae tried to persuade him into joining the Resistance, but he refused. I think he was bitter we weren't able to rescue him. Since your people arrived, his cause has grown. The angara will not make the same mistake twice. Resentment is just in right. You have a lot to prove to us."

Iyali'Talaas released her shawl slowly, then smoothed the creases. She raised her chin, highly. "I do not count myself among the Andromeda Initiative, Jaal Ama Darav. Syrus and I are our own unit. Do not account our actions for theirs."

"I don't. You helped me to the pilgrimage. The Pathfinder took our find for his own."

He glared down at the floor, his fists clenched. "It was my history, my culture, and he left me behind. After all we did to take the pilgrimage to Mithrava. For him to belittle our efforts-"

"It happens with a lot of humans, I'm afraid," she said, lifting her left shoulder. "Their actions are rash, hurried. Do not take it personally. Once we have the artifact, I am sure he will take you to the third monolith."

"Will you not join us?"

The quarian hesitated. She wished to. Stars, she wished to, but all she saw in such an adventure was their inevitable closeness. The very thought had her spine shuddering, though not necessarily in an unpleasant fashion.

"There are other areas of Havarl I wish to see, other ruins that might not need a Pathfinder's insight. I kind of wish to be on my own for a while."

"Ah, I see." His eyes danced across the floor, uncertain, lost. "If I made you uncomfortable on Mithrava-"

She giggled. "It's fine, Jaal Ama Darav. You are sweet to care. I just… require time to myself. The fall shook me. Still, I feel the pull of gravity as if we were back there. It's almost," she clenched her neck tight, "suffocating."

He raised his arm as if to comfort her only to pause mid-height. It slowly landed by his thigh. "So, heights do frighten you?"

"Only very high cliffs." The quarian inhaled a deep breath, steadying her nerves. There was solid ground beneath her feet. Firm, solid titanium. A cruiser. There was safety in starships.

 _Irony, how thy were an unkind tempest,_ she quoted sullenly - a memory from a poem many years ago. She fell back with a squeak of air, her hands cupped over her stomach. Her counter of starship wreckages boarded on three, yet incredibly it was a short climb that unsettled her nerves so.

The rush of the wind against her, the weightless plummet and barely stagnant valley; the inevitable waver of her lifeline, to snap at any moment. _Keelah, I will have to face my fear eventually._

"The Roekaar are no one to fear," she assured, rising on her elbows. "I have dealt with both criminals and pirates before. The Roekaar will not prevent me from seeing Havarl. They could try, though."

Jaal chuckled: a quaint rumble within the depths of his chest. "Hah, I admire your courage. But Akksul and his men are dangerous. They travel in groups, always. You and your friend are only two."

A scowl darkened him - with a sinister dip in his forehead that harshened his appearance considerably so. "He'll make you want to kill them."

"Then I will kill them," she replied, with neither a care or shrug. Such a thing seemed to startle the angara, but he had not learned the lessons she had many years ago, back in her childhood youth. People in power were cruel, tyrannical. Martyrs may have been made, but she would rather a martyr than a still breathing madman.

Jaal sighed, warily massaging his knuckles. "There is a recluse not far from here. Her name is Thaldyr. I would like to visit her. I may require company on my trip. Would you like to come along?"

Iyali'Talaas leaned forward to protest, but he raised his hand defiantly. "This is personal for me. I know you want to be alone. But please, I would treasure this, sincerely."

She fiddled with her fringed veil once more, twiddling the frayed fabric into tiny knots. _Could one more exploration truly harm me?_ It would most likely be on the planet, in the forest, no doubt. She did wish to see more of Havarl-

"You owe me for this, Jaal Ama Darav."

The angara could only grin, brightly. "Thank you! I promise, you will not regret this."

…

The Tempest had remained anchored for the night, the air-cruiser nestled above Daar Pelaav in a copse of fir and hemlock, the leaves swaying over the ship in soft breezes. Leaving it without rousing the attention of the crew had been meddlesome, but it was totally worth the venture when she got to stride out under a cloudless sky with only the dripping residue of the canopies for rain.

Their trek led further north, so far that even the brilliance of the cruiser's lights paled into the gloom. Iyali'Talaas observed Jaal slip through the vast undergrowth with barely a stir, though her own treacherous clawing could not be described as the same. And so she attempted to mimic his antics, stretching her curvaceous legs over the slinkiest of branches, curling her back below the longest of leaves like the sensitive spine of a wildcat.

Her toes still crunched under foreign vegetation. The brush still snapped under her sweeping knees but her movements were fluent, near elegant. Not enough to rival a natural hunter, of course, but close enough to spy the luminescent prowls of galorn backs far into the shade without a howl or titter.

Great tusked beasts they were, a great mix of lupine and ceratorhine creatures abasked in glinting stripes meshed with ink fur. The group gradually disappeared within swishing stalks, leaving them alone in their prowl.

They followed a road scattered in tree roots and ferns. The old ramped bridge connected most of the land to the ruined villages, and though there were many cross sections in which she wished to follow, they continued on a steadily course until a domed outlet caught them by surprise.

In the centre was no ordinary hut. Surrounded, it was by the weather-ravaged walls of remnant technology, jutting out into the sky like the scorched ribcage of the planet - the pulsing waves the veins, the inner flora the messy tissue. Beyond such appearances, however, strode numerous creatures like armoured dralls. Only, they stood on hind legs and were encased in figments of bone. Kett.

Jaal dipped into the undergrowth, parting a branch to see beyond. The Kett patrolled the darkest areas, setting up boarders and trenches through the natural mire.

He growled so lowly that the very vibrations shook the air between them. "They have Thaldyr trapped. We must help her!"

When his toes tug deeply into the mud, popping bubbles with a _squelch_ ; when thick knees bent to jump and broad arms flexed back for his shouldered rifle, Iyali'Talaas hooked her arms around his waist, twisted back and thrusted him away. He fell, ungracefully, into the brush, snapping twigs with a groan.

Alien birds fluttered from the canopy above. Iyali'Talaas leapt over him, stilling his rustling arms with her own, silencing his gasp with a hiss. Torch lights flared the shadows above them, dappled the soaked silt through meshing petals. The quarian leant so far forward that her own body rose and fell with him, her breathes adopted his, her own cheek nestled into his shoulder blade.

Only when the flares disappeared did she rise slightly over him, tilting the longer bracts of their cover down to the scowling bone-men below, gathered in clusters like ants. Three more skulked into view, though unlike the brethren she had seen, those were slinkier, thinner, taller.

A higher caste of Kett, superior by the normal drones it seemed by their armour, for it lacked the bulging mass of the others. The metallic patina hugged them tightly, enclosing all vital organs save for their skull, encrowned in a star-cut crest of ivory. Essences of smoke seemed to trail them, shifting their forms between existence and ethereal.

The only similarity to their brethren were the pouches of crystal imbued into their pauldrons, twinkling across the valley, humming in foreign energy.

Iyali'Talaas glared down at her hand where essences of biotic energy tingled and spat. _The same energy that was in their weapons._

 _As_ she rose to her knees, Jaal remained still along the ground. She tugged down a low-hung petal and swiped her hand over the distant cluster. "I've never seem those type of Kett before. If we rush in, we might not survive. Better to distance the group and attack from a high vantage point, I think, unless you have another suggestion?"

He parted his mouth sourly, open to protest, then closed both as his eyes bulged, taking in the enemy masses. "And how would you suggest we do that? The longer we wait, the less time Thaldyr has!"

"Let me think."

She squinted down into the village, finding the small patches of angaran electronics still active. Pylons dotted the land, a dome of webbed metal hung tall above them, though splintered it was in very large holes. There were boulders along the eastern parameter that could provide cover. And then she remembered the herd of gallorn only a stretch down the road.

She turned back to Jaal with a triumphant giggle. "The gallorn we have seen, how are they attracted to their prey?"

"Scent, mostly. They sneak and strike from the shadows."

"Would loud noises scare them away or draw them in?"

The expression he provided was guarded, unsure. "It depends on the group. If the sounds were prey-like, then the alpha male would surely investigate his territory."

"I see. You may think me mad, but I have done this tactic before. It is… somewhat embarrassing," she laughed, cupping her apparatus with a hand.

Her hands reinacted the details of her plan before the two drifted into the undergrowth.

At the entrance to the hut, four drones loomed over the platform like a grand wall of blotched stone. Between their tumescent arms swung the jagged shaft of a battering ram, clattering against the entrance on every third swing. The night growled in their heaving groans, drooling pants, clenched molars.

Within the hut, the low whimpers of a female trickled through the nooks like a crackling flute. It only encouraged their swings to hasten while brown rain flecked the ramp beneath them like blood splatter.

A sudden scream arose over the downpour. The hut moaned in protest; its edges bruised and splintered, but the battering ram soon slammed into the ramp, leaving a dent in the floor.

The four drones turned back towards the village. Each inflated skull tipped to a raised shoulder.

Another scream intermingled with the last, the second far more feminine - a yelp enticing the urge to investigate - prey calling for aid. As the thinner Kett began to circle the valley, their forms golden crystals twinkling in the night like spouts of atomic waves, another sound fell upon them. A gathering of howls before the inevitable war.

From the southern road swirls of luminescent stripes swept into the valley. Sparks of electricity pulsed through the air, dazzled broken pools of water, shattered glass from pylons. Shrieks of anguish filled the void. Then, one by one, as the howls slowly died and the streams of blue and green stagnated, only a few crystals were left floating, while the rest had been snuffed out like dying flames.

The quarian's left land slipped over passing boulders. Her enviro-suit soon plunged into obscurity.

From the safety of the flora, she cupped her hands. Webs of biotic energy branched forth from her arms like violet wings, soon cocooning the Kett in cracking shields. One reached out to touch, only for the shock to propel it back. From above, wisps of molten fragments rained upon them. Only when the webs finally dissipated did the final Kett roll into the earth, the entire lump of defeated bone half-consumed within the mud.

Iyali'Talaas crept through the valley, pistol raised. Jaal parried over the remaining defences, straight up to Thaldyr's door.

"Sister!" he announced, brandishing the hut with his shoulder. "Thaldyr, it's clear! Please open!"

In a slow hiss the entrance creaked apart. Jaal slipped an arm inside, then forced the remaining slab ajar. Within an angaran women lay over a gurney, an arm stricken pale over her abdomen.

Jaal dashed over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder, only to gasp at the blue liquid that coated his hand.

"These wounds…" He followed the blood trail to a dull blade hidden beneath her pillow. His face softened. "Thaldyr… _why?_ "

He touched her shoulder gingerly, embracing her in a hug. "Why, why _why?!_ "

She was only small, a thin angara that held the weary creases of a warrior and the soft youth of a maiden, perhaps only on her twenty-sixth cycle. She groaned into the hug, her face swaying in his hold. "I-I can't go back… not to the Kett…" she coughed; blue spat into her palm. "Akksul, he promised freedom. Strength. Might. The Kett, I saw them, they came for me, I-"

"Hush now, sister," he soothed, stroking her crown. "The Kett are dead. They will not take you. Not now. Not ever. This…" he inhaled shakily, "this I promise you."

The female smiled at him, a smile that to Iyali'Talaas expressed true joy, relief. Bright like the stars themselves. "You sound like him, Jaal. Like Akksul. Hah, so confident, so sure. He saved me. He gave me a chance to live and die on my own terms. I am free because of him-"

Her gaze suddenly wavered.

Jaal's shoulders tensed. "We need to find him, Thaldyr."

She chuckled, a playful blush lighting her cheeks. "You were always the same, Jaal. Always…"

Her body relaxed in the gurney and her eyes slowly closed. There was no further rise in her chest, no utter of pain when Jaal drew her close, buried his nose in her shoulder. The rain poured heavily over the hut, but the droplets were nothing compared to the rivulets that washed away the dirt from his skin, in sorrow and salt.

A dead silence fell. The remaining moments were hazy for the quarian, for it took her sometime to realise that Thaldyr had perished. Though her body lay still, bent, lifeless, there was something about witnessing a death happen to someone close that seemed to extend beyond the quarian's own sense of morality, especially when it came to those she killed for freedom.

There was always a numbness, a lack of emotion that disconnected her from those she hurt in pursuit of her own agendas. Sometimes there were epiphanies of ethicality. Those fleeting few moments that she so quickly swept aside. To witness it happen in detail, to see the complications and consequences confused her.

She had always been closed off, after all. Preferred to leave people before she got too attached. It was why she kept her own mind locked away, her own thoughts guarded.

What happened to Thaldyr did not seem to quite register in her mind. And so she stood still, unmoving. A statue oblivious to time.

Jaal continued to embrace Thaldyr until his own tears slipped into her dried blood.

Iyali'Talaas stared at the liquid sapphire beneath the gurney. Into the reflection. At herself. A stark figure in the room, black against the radiance of the porch light. The reflection had no face, no mirrored identity. She was a foreigner. An unknown. Someone not meant to be in such a heartfelt moment.

In that instance, she had never felt so alone, so intrusive. She slipped outside into the gloom, leaned heavily over a railing and wondered. Had the death been her fault? _If we had gotten here sooner…_

She shook the guilt from her mind. _No. Thaldyr died by her own hand. It was not my fault._ And yet, in some way, she did not quite believe it to be true.

When the tears could no longer flow, Jaal distanced himself from his sister. He gradually stepped away, fingers drifting apart while his lips remained the only linger. "Isharay, brave one," he choked before leaving the hut.

He did not, could not, look back.

Once in the night he inhaled deeply. The quarian had to wonder if the stench of blood and flowers helped in some way, for through her own apparatus it was quite pugnant.

Even so, she found herself at a loss for words.

"She was my eldest sister," he said when the cold rain began to smear the grime down his cheeks. "I never knew her well. The last I heard, she had been taken by the Kett. I was afraid I would never see her again."

He looked down and thought a long time before he spoke. His left arm moved a little, involuntarily. "I only knew about her return this morning. To know she had been freed, and then coaxed into doing Akksul's bidding- I can't… I _won't_ think on it." He dragged a slab of metal across the entrance, barring the way inside. "I will need to tell her mother and plan for the burial."

"Do angara bury their dead?" Iyali'Talaas asked, her arms curled into her chest.

"Some do. You know from Esmus that not all our religions are the same."

Jaal slunk down to the floor, raised his knees and let his arms hang over. "We believe in many things. Do you really wish to know?"

"I would not ask if I didn't."

He sighed, wiping a stray tear from his chin. Then, he beckoned to the sky. "We… we believe in reincarnation. That is the central tenet to all angara, but some also believe in stars. You see, we believe that souls are remnants of the stars past, that each angaran child born is a fragment of that star's cycle. Each family heralds a different star, and through the reincarnations, our souls strive to become what they once were. _Born from what was before. Blessed to be better than before._ We grow through the generations."

"What happens to your soul once you become better? Do you continue forever?"

"Some believe so. My true mother certainly does. She hopes that once she dies, she will reunite with my father in a new life until the end of time. I'm not sure if she will."

Feeling far more keen on his story, Iyali'Talaas rested beneath the railing, slipping her legs through the gaps to dangle in the rain. Her arms hugged the bars. "Then what do you believe, Jaal Ama Darav? What will happen to Thaldyr?"

His eyes reflected the night, glimmering in tears yet to shed. "I believe once a soul has reached its end, it waits for its family to return."

"Return? Where?"

His hand gestured up. "To the sky. To the cluster. To Heleus. Perhaps even beyond us."

Iyali'Talaas wiped the water from her visor before peeking up.

Though the once starlit scene had descended into a downpour, stricken in faraway pearls of thunder, there were sparse gatherings of clarity beyond the covert that wavered in vibrant hues, like auras. It was the lustre of a quarter-planet, the pink rose of the sky, the neighbouring orb that so often graced Havarl heavens. The sight of it granted some small comfort.

 _Like a star, only different._ "And once all of the family reach the same place?"

"Our souls become a star, and the cycle continues."

"Then, is death truly so terrible if they become a star?" she asked, genuine hope fluttering her chest. She could not think on anything more poetic and beautiful.

His answering smile held more than a hint of pride. "It is when the soul yearns to be with another, only for them to be lost until another is reborn. For me there is no greater sadness. To be the one who has reached their potential, only to wait for the rest of my family to join me. I would not like that fate.

"Thaldyr was wise amongst my family. She might be in the heavens already, waiting for my mothers, brothers and sisters to join her. I only hope she has company in her wait." His voice quivered. "The thought of her being alone breaks my heart."

Iyali'Talaas continued to stare into the sky, but her mind clouded in thoughts and desires. _Angaran attitude, culture, even religion thrive on togetherness. Was that not weakness? I was always told it was…_

Yet the angara as a people were evidence that togetherness meant survival. Always she had seen, heard, knew that relationships with any would impact her, damage her, kill her. Emotional vulnerability always ended in destroying not only the loved ones, but the one person it mattered to most of all. Her.

She thought back on the times she had left people who once cared for her, all in the belief that companionship was a vice. Her father, mother, brothers from when she was young. The merry band of delinquents she did contract work with back on Omega. The one love she never truly allowed herself to pursue.

There were not many. She ensured that. Yet even in her strive to be alone she could not keep herself completely isolated. Syrus Vitarian, her own geth Messenger. Both she knew so intricately, though they only knew the persona she played for them. They had lapped her lies like starving rodents, uncaring of the sour values and selfish agendas.

For the first time in years her chest ached, burned in loss. As if she too had lost someone that night. Herself. No one knew the real her… but her.

"She will not be alone, Jaal Ama Darav," Iyali'Talaas whispered, shifting from the banister to hug her knees. "And if she is, I'm sure she will be proudly looking down on her family. She will never be alone while you are alive. Believe in that, if nothing else."

The words tasted like ash in her mouth. But it was the only truth she could utter without her own grief tumbling into the space between them.

Jaal nodded only once. She did not see the emotions warring across his face, nor the difficulty of not having someone to hold him, to tell him it would be better, that no more ache would befall him. They would be all lies, but it would comfort him in his grief all the same.

Instead, he uttered, "Thank you," shakily rising to his feet. He took her hand, aiding in her own stand. "You told me, when we first met, that you had family. Would you tell me about them?"

"Another day, maybe," she said, wringing the damp from her shawl. "They are gone now. I'm not comfortable with saying anymore."

"I am sorry. But, perhaps they are watching down on us now, like Thaldyr. Perhaps, like my sister, they are a part of you as well."

Her fingers stilled when a hand patted her shoulder. He was so close to her and it seemed the need for touch drew him closer still. "And I think they would be proud of the woman you have become."

"You barely know me."

"Untrue," he said, holding her other shoulder. She had no choice but to meet his gaze. "I know you to be kind, intelligent, a brilliant fighter. Yours actions have such fire, such passion. It's breathtaking. You aliens are so guarded, mistrustful. Yet you shine beyond the rest. I don't know if it is your species, your bi-ot-ics or my heart, but I know you, being here with me, has changed you. For the better, I think."

He withdrew his hands, turning back towards the valley. Still, it was what he said over his shoulder that stunned her mute: "Knowing you further would be a privilege, sincerely."

The return to the research station was lapsed in quiet. But the conversation stayed with Iyali'Talaas until the grace of a new dawn.


	16. The Return of Zorai

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Sixteen: The Return to Zorai

The return to Daar Pelaav faltered in blood-bathed mire.

The blood did not belong to an angara. It was crimson that dyed the rivers, draped the rocks, not a dim sapphire. It greeted the two of them in the central wilds, just beneath the raised dias of a remnant ruin. They approached the ruin from the direction of twin-split waters, where the conjoining river swept the reminance of mud from their thighs.

Through the incline and wilds littered the stray mechanics of Roekaar. Many of the dead lay coated in the ever-growing flora of the planet, while others only had chunks of metal left from the onslaught of local beasts.

When they happened upon the crown of a small pyramid imbedded into the hillside, they found a newly risen platform glowing in glyphs and a ramp that led deep into the earth.

Iyali'Talaas found herself stumbling forward, unaware of any other sound but the otherworldly music the ruin seemed to emit, until Jaal caught her arm. "This place. It is remnant. We should not go inside."

He gestured to the floor. The blood trail led inside.

"I'm not sure there are many humans on Havarl, Jaal Ama Darav," she said, stroking the red between her fingers. She cleaned her hand in the grass and gave the ruin a once-over glance. "Do you remember the nav-points for Zorai's artifact?"

"Of course." Jaal slipped the dry parchment from his thigh-pocket and looked up to the sky.

The responding expression filled the quarian with dread. "If this is the location… and this is human blood…"

"Are you proposing that the Pathfinder is down there? Injured?"

She gave a grim nod. "Keelah, humans are quite soft in body. And that is a _lot_ of blood." For a moment she was unsure of what to do. Help or flee. There was a pull to the ruin that had her teetering on her toes, a pulse that seemed to lull her forward, straight into the unknown.

A sudden brace of self awareness claimed her, an instinct not lost to any of her people, that had her turning to leave. Until she remembered the crucial point on why she was with the Pathfinder in the first place, then she turned back on her heel, sighing heavily. "We will have to help him."

"Perhaps we might also find Zorai's artifact within," Jaal expressed, reaching to his back for his rifle. "But if the Pathfinder is in danger, we might be his only help. We must be swift."

To their surprise the doors to the ruin were open. The dawning rays of the outside gradually receded, and the shadows of the ancients embraced them just as keenly. She used the beam on her omni-tool for light, brandishing the low, sloped ceiling in gold. But the shimmers of emerald lines deep within the metal also lit the chamber well, creating a semi-clear darkness.

At the end of the chamber floated a strange sphere, bathed in a luminance of its own. Iyali'Talaas felt the strange hum grow stronger near its presence. She longed to reach out and touch it; her own biotic energy spluttering from her fingers.

"Don't!" Jaal quickly snatched her hands, caging them in his own large fist. He pointed to the sphere with the nose of his rifle, tugging her backward. "I have seen this before in my training with the Moshae. If you touch this, you will fall. _We_ will fall. It is a gravity well. Beneath this floor lies a very long drop."

At the mention of the fall, the quarian quickly felt her legs go weak. She descended to the floor, touching the cascading plates tight with her fingers. "How long of a fall?"

"Very long. The Moshae was able to work with remnant technology. That was why her pupils were never harmed. But you, if you touch this, I fear what the consequences might be."

"Then we should wait until the Pathfinder returns to the surface. We can wait outside or-"

"And if he is injured? He may never return to us, Iyali. We must go down." Jaal turned towards the sphere and began to coax the light with his hand. The music changed pitch, lowering to a steady quiet that did not seem as powerful as it was a moment ago. "I can take us safely down. After that, we will be on our own."

Iyali'Talaas inhaled shakily, tapping her fingers along the metal. She felt the strength in its weight and wondered how there could not be solid earth beneath it. The very thought had her scampering back to the nearest wall with Jaal hastily following her.

He reached out for her but she clawed his hands away, feeling the very chamber weaken beneath her feet. The walls appeared to constrict, close. Where they were once towering, the lights once tantalising, she now found the very room too small, the ceiling too low, the lights blinding.

She shivered, falling to her knees and hiding her face in the crevice. "There is music here, Jaal Ama Darav. I can hear it in my mind. And the fall, I-I cannot do it. Not after Mithrava. The Pathfinder will be fine, but I cannot-"

She shrank from his touch, the feel of him suddenly burning and wrong. He lowered to her height and spoke very softly. "During my younger years, another angara under the Moshae reacted the same as you now. Tesmus, was his name. All angara hear the song of the remnant. The Moshae explained that the remnant react to emotion, to feeling. It does not realise you're not its creator, but it reacts to you. We angara feel it also. You must learn to ignore it."

He touched her shoulder, lightly. She did not blanch away, nor did she welcome it either, stilling under him like a cornered kaerkyn. Emboldened, he waited for the shake in her limbs to settle, dropped his rifle and took either side of her helmet, holding it between his palms.

All she heard was the music leering at her from the sphere. And then nothing. When a soft warmth enveloped her skin, seeped into enviro-suit, she felt the constant hum dwindle to a mild murmur, like a cave echo against the lull of ocean waves.

Iyali'Talaas opened her eyes to find her own biotic energy tingling across her skin. Not untamed but in reaction to his bioelectric ability. It coaxed sporadic cords to lax, muscles to slacken.

When he spoke, she listened. "Better?"

She smiled, nodding warily. He took her hand and guided her over to the sphere. Still, she felt the thrumming, minor though it was. Her own nerves seemed to pale in comparison to the thoughts that crowded her mind, thoughts of death and injury.

They stood on either side of the gravity well, hand holding hand.

"Your bioelectricity can calm me?" she asked, lightly tugging her hand away. The feeling was so powerful, so dominant. Her chest lurched in fear, only to be suddenly quelled.

He chuckled, the spherical radiance illuminating the folds over his neck, the triangular base of his face, the blue of his monacle. Beneath the screen, his eye seemed so familiar. Like Syrus. "It has many uses."

His features hardened in the shadow, concerned. "Would you… may I hold you? It might be better to hold onto someone when the well is activated. I cannot help from a distance. The way down may be long."

She hesitated, fear for the drop kindling within her once again, as well as fear of attachment. Still, if the Pathfinder was truly injured and at the base of the ruin… _I must go down there. I have no choice._

She held onto what little courage she could muster and hesitantly stumbled into the angara's arms. To feel strong arms hold her so tightly, one clamped over her back, the other over her waist, to feel nestled within a calming aura was all too foreign and unexplainable. She encircled her arms over his shoulders, gripped his cape in each fist.

She spied their silhouette behind him and pondered on the strange shadow they formed. Nodding once more in confirmation, the quarian gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. Jaal groaned under the strength of her arms. She did not loosen them. Then, she felt his hand slip away. He touched the sphere along the base and the chamber flashed in a blinding light.

The floor quickly slipped free.

There was no weight beneath her feet. Flashes of the pilgrimage flooded her mind. The instant loss of gravity. The lack of stability beneath her. The gush of air crackling her sound processors and the sight of the grove growing closer and closer.

But the calming warmth of Jaal's power continued to imbue her muscles, cure the shivering in her skin until there was no feeling at all. Just drowsy lightheadedness. It was like a distant memory. Knowing what should happen when the actual feeling was not there.

She knew the loss of ground beneath her, but instead of feeling a fall, she felt frozen. When she opened her eyes, a chasm of black lined green passed her in a slow blur. It did not feel real.

When she felt stability beneath her feet she continued to clutch the angara, even when the weight of gravity slammed upon her like a wave. Both species stumbled to a stand. Both continued to hold each other until the vast static of the remnant abyss called them apart.

Iyali'Talaas twirled around the chasm in utter disbelief. It must have been thousands of metres underground, a great tower that perhaps even resided within the core of the planet itself. There were clusters of spires obtruding from the walls like chandeliers, though the entire section around them was sparse of all but a few metallic columns. There was only a doorway to go through.

The two species entered the first vault of three, surprised to find that most of the remnant technology was so bare. There were no statues to gods or legends like Zorai and Jephro, no identities of another culture that appeared like others. If the entire ruin was a shrine, the explanations lay in the glyphs, and even those were so few to find.

But what the chasm lacked in culture, it more than compensated in magnitude and splendour. The very apex was crowned in the rejuvenating mechanics of an upside down pyramid, one that seemed to be a power generator of some making, held deep into the centre of the ceiling. Beneath were shimmering lights of crystallised fire entwining within the air like a genetic double helix.

Iyali'Talaas reached out to touch one of the spectacles, only for the flake to slip through her hand. How she wished to know how constructs became reality, how the very crafting of such a grand temple could be done. It must have taken thousands of years.

"How could you not find places like this fascinating?" the quarian asked, peeking over the balcony to find more of that strange, bubbling liquid from the first monolith. It looked so tranquil, like she could bathe in its essence for an eternity and be eternally youthful.

Jaal eyed the ruin carefully, holding his rifle close to his chest. "Like I said, I was never a good student. It is not that I do not find them fascinating. I just prefer to see the remnant with open eyes."

She looked back in surprise. " _Open_ eyes?"

"This place is dangerous, Iyali. As are all remnant. It would be wise to keep your weapon close while adventuring here. I know of too many brothers who have fallen to remnant machines."

She shook her head, ignoring him. It might have been dangerous but the enticement of a new place so grand in scale, so beautiful, was far too much to ignore.

From the western bridge the clamour of gunfire echoed into the vault. Leaving the central chasm behind, Iyali'Talaas and Jaal dashed into the neighbouring corridors to find torchlight flickering in the distance. When they finally entered the third vault, they found the Pathfinder hiding behind a plated shield, while the krogan charged into the four-legged chest of a one-eyed autonomous machine.

"Pathfinder!" Jaal shouted, slipping behind a column and hacking the remaining machines with his rifle.

Iyali'Talaas fled behind a nearby wall and did the same.

Pathfinder Ryder took once glance over his shoulder before cursing. "Damn it you two! What happened to staying on the ship?!"

The quarian raised a hand - power bubbling within her fist. She slipped aside from her cover, sending the glowing orb straight into a smaller machine. It crackled, spat, then slumped to the floor. She quickly fell back. "Oh, you know, exploring."

The Pathfinder dashed along the vault, using the jump-jet on his spacesuit to glide the remaining feet in a wave of cyan light. With his side-arm raised he shot the remaining machines down, until all that was left along the floor were discarded shells and pieces.

He turned back to his saviours with a curled fist. "This is dangerous, can't you tell? Damn you, Kallo! I told you to keep the hangar bay closed until I returned." He sighed, wiping the ash from his helmet.

Behind him, the krogan plucked the remaining remnant from his armour, then helped a fellow initiative crewmen to their feet. She was human, muscled and limped on one leg. Her black armour was damp, patched but newly leaking. _Blood_.

"You alright, Cora?" Ryder asked, slipping her arm over his neck. He examined the wound and cursed once more. "It's reopened. We'll need to get her back to the Tempest. Now that the way is clear."

"What about the artifact, Ryder. Why we're here?" she asked, forcing herself to balance on her other leg. "I can last a while longer. We've not far to go."

"Yes, and you could bleed out by then. I'm not risking it, Cora."

"Dammit, Ryder."

"Just, here me out, yea?" He looked back to Iyali'Talaas and Jaal, a plan forming in his mind. "Maybe it's a good thing you two are here. We weren't going to leave at first but, now that we don't have to go any further… Down that corridor, go to the eastern side. That's where the artifact should be. The door's already open. Grab it and meet us back at the Tempest. Looks like you both get to find the artifact after all. Happy hunting."

Iyali'Talaas stepped into the neighbouring corridor as the Pathfinder and his team prepared to leave. There were cases for ammo and supplies by the end of the vault, yet she continued to stare into the remaining corridor, wishing nothing more than to leave the Pathfinder behind, if to see what awaited her.

Jaal continued to help until the team disappeared. Only when the final echo of footsteps vanished from the vault did he follow the quarian through the remnant abyss, until the final door came into view.

To describe her near-prance to Zorai's sanctum as excited was insignificant to how truly enthralled she was. The lightness of her energy seemed to distort the remnant ruins, from where in the beginning it was cold, unbaring and majestically foreign, it now hummed anew with renewed vigour, as if the ruin itself meant for her to find its descendant.

The walls opened to her. The corridors bathed them both in brilliant emerald sheens and did not inhibit nor prevent their journey. She imagined statues adorning the shiverous antics of an angaran god, the colourfully metallic tapestry of horned war lords and courageous dalliances. She could vividly picture the jewels crowning the monuments and the delicately carved tombstone of Zorai himself.

Only what she found had her hope melting into the pit of her stomach. There indeed was a tomb, but it was no grander than that of the Kett she had killed hours previous. There was an altar, cut into a half-pyramid with a stone diamond pulsing above. Beneath the altar, however, decomposing in a mound of fetid flesh and innards lay an angaran male, his armour sunk deep into his remains.

She stared at the dead mound for a while, feeling her excitement fade to nothing. "This… _this_ is Zorai?" She could have laughed if she was not so disappointed. A god deserved a better burial. To be forgotten in a tomb not even of his own making was a disgrace she was so surprised to feel. There were jars and pots around him, old enough it seemed by the cracks and faded markings, but still, she would have pictured Zorai to be older. For his corpse to be bone and sand.

She bent over him, picking from the muck a silvery gauntlet, intricate in design and circuitry. There was a data drive as well. With help from her translator and omni-tool, she read the logs aloud: "…stories told by my grandfather…. of how the gauntlet came to him. It should have been my sister's to hold. She was the oldest of all their siblings, direct descendants of Zorai… I barely understand it. I visited the sages. They said Zorai knew how to speak to Remnant. I will show them. I'll use it on the Remnant, like my ancestor did."

"So, this is another of Zorai's descendants," Jaal noted, sighing over the body. "How many of his lineage died to unlock his secrets? But we have the gauntlet. Now to Taavos. I am curious to see what happens."

"Isn't Taavos a Roekaar?" the quarian asked, slipping the gauntlet into her satchel. "If he is, he may sooner kill us then talk to us."

"That is true, but I wonder…" He took one long hard look at the quarian before reaching up to cup her helmet. He smiled when she leaned into his palm. "Your head is very small."

She scoffed, batting his hand away. "As you have mentioned before, Jaal Ama Darav."

"Yes, but from a distance you appear angaran. Your legs are curved like ours. You have strong hips, few fingers. You are more angaran than your other aliens. Perhaps that could work in our favour."

She folded her arms and shifted her weight onto one leg, very interested. "What did you have in mind?"

"There were Roekaar back where Thaldyr-" he hesitated, lowering his gaze. "Back where Thaldyr is. Our helmets are large by your standard. Perhaps with a few adjustments you could wear one."

"And in doing so pose as a Roekaar? That could actually work?"

"The Roekaar are many. Ties to their family keep them close. They value loyalty and courage. They will not expect one of their own to betray them, or for an alien to imitate them. We will have the elements of surprise."

Iyali'Talaas found herself surprised. If only he could see her grin. "I'm surprised you have a mind for such tactics, Jaal Ama Darav. I have to say, I quite like this you."

She expected a laugh, not for his features to sour. "In times of war the Resistance have used many tactics. But this is not against the Kett. This is for my homeworld, for all angara. Havarl cannot fall."

"Havarl will not fall," the quarian assured while deep within the bowels of remnant technology; deep within the heart of the planet itself. "Havarl will not fall while we still live."

It was her hope and promise.


	17. Descendants of Godhood

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Seventeen: Descendants of Godhood

Old Pelaav lay just beyond the hill, between a balance of morass soaked in marshland.

An old courtyard it was secluded by remnant moats and towers. Most had been reclaimed by the flora of the world in variant nets of naiad weed. It decorated the thinner bays, hissing in froth and foam. Great bluebells clinked like lilac chalices in the breeze, but though beautiful drifting within the evening mist over the calmer waters, the skulls cluttering the soil beneath their drooping petals spoke of more than one creature's legend, and fate. Only the shemrys scuttled in the barer marshes. Their shells had been mutated by the local algae beyond repair, becoming black and festered.

Not even the dos-vesoen dared to float over the marshland, perhaps knowing the sickness that tainted it. And the quarian was to pass through it all, half blinded by the helmet fixed over her own.

She saw the world as an outcast as it was. To have her sight impaired by triangular shades within the corners of her visor only led to her nerves peaking over every oddity, be it hush, sight or sound.

She gazed into the murky pool beneath her feet, finding the elements of Roekaar orange a strange contrast to the peeking silver of her enviro-suit.

If the helmet was all that was needed, there was no doubt in her mind that she could pass for a Roekaar. Her legs curved from her knee sockets just as any sentient she had come across. Her toes protruded from the same elongated stems. Her fingers were not webbed but were not human either. It might have worked. Though, dressed in the poorly patched armour of a dead angara, caked in varying degrees of mud and earth, she found herself convinced on only one thing. She appeared more ghoul than angara.

If she crawled through the marshes alone, there was no doubt. She would be shot on sight and trophied in a throne hall along many, many spears.

It made Jaal laugh in a deep throated bellow that stirred the trees and claimed the skies. Even though his own armour did not quite fit him. His toes squelched through the quagmire while his jumpsuit tore and squeaked. He too had been coated in Havarl's own nature, only he did not seem so thickly covered as she.

That conniving adhi. "Are you sure the Roekaar are going to accept us like this?" she asked, gesturing to her damp frock. The smell had her retching forward, only for the bile to slip back down her throat. "Keelah, this is _foul_."

Jaal wafted the smell away. "At least you have two helmets to prevent the odour. I only have the one, and it is broken."

"As soon as they see us, they are going to ask what happened." Her left hand claimed the stairway while her first leg sank into the marsh with a _pop_. Only when her second leg was safely purchased did she allow her hand to slide down the railing and slip away.

Bile and salt the water reminded her of. Thick and squishy across the bottom, murky and light on the surface. Even the smallest movements made the longest waves. The wilds must have known they were there, waiting.

Jaal stood further away, his legs shrouded in a gathering of newly risen lilies. "Let me talk when we arrive at Old Pelaav. We will have nothing to fear, but they will know you are different the moment you speak."

"That sounds awfully like prejudice, Jaal Ama Darav," she said, yelping when her leg sank a little too deeply on one side.

The angara stifled a chuckle, straightening his back. "Never. Only truth, my friend. The Roekaar will know the difference."

Through the ancient lake the two did scramble through, leaving a trail of disturbed silt behind them. The further across the courtyard they swam, the more the water rose, ascending so high that the quarian's chest was soon submerged.

In the beginning, her breathing was feathery, untroubled. After sometime, jittery pants laced it. Her fingers numbed along the water's edge, blurry then clear in her visor's shaded bottom.

It was not due to the cold, but exhaustion.

Dragging herself through the land would have been difficult enough, but with another set of rusted armour weighing her down and the thickening soil clogging her poorly welded disguise, it was a miracle she lasted as long as she did.

Where the angara's legs moved fluently, hers struggled far more. Lilly coves gathered in strangling bunches, twisting into near impenetrable forces that guided her further and further away from Jaal, into bone-cluttered nests. Mist soon flowed over the water ominously, disguising the furthering sillouhette of her friend until he faded completely.

Iyali'Talaas faltered between two boulders. The water ahead was still. The lily beds did not stir. The bluebells hung over yonder did not peep. Only the rocks crackled in unseen motion, reminding the quarian of varrens sharpening their incisors.

Her hands paddled into an alcove cut into a shallow pool. She settled along the edge, her fingers fanned across the stone, her waist still metres sunk. The lake remained unnaturally still, the fog rising ever higher until the water reflected it. When she heard the bluebells crunch, she jolted from the rock-face, paddling further and further out into uncharted currents.

Her left leg sank. She yelped, twirling back to find her foot suddenly heavy. When she attempted to move her other leg, the boot would not budge. The water did not waver. She lay within pure unrelenting sludge and was trapped.

"Jaal?" she called out, attempting to swim back. Her legs remained in clay. "Jaal! Where are you?"

She listened to the wind, only to hear nothing. It was a deathly quiet.

Behind her, the water erupted in a spine-chilling shatter. Iyali'Talaas twisted around, only to find a trail of foam and ripples. A set of spikes broke the surface, swished back and forth like a tail. It was a tail.

Fear stilled her body into paralysis. The tail stalked the current of its ripples, gliding in circular ovals, only to adjust its course as a new set of bubbles overtook the old.

It seemed to sniff the water, using the bubbles as pockets of air that heightened its senses greatly, for its spikes drew closer and closer.

The quarian held her breath and stilled her body. She could not move, even if she wished to.

The spines cut through the bay as delicately as a hot poker through snow, momentarily disappearing behind a bed of reeds before rustling into a clearing to begin again. Each time it slipped nearer to her, until she witnessed a crown of scales shimmering beneath the water, two beady eyes and the engorging nostrils of its snout.

It's one unscarred eye dilated.

Long jaws leapt to the surface. It's nostrils gulped in massive pockets of air. Then, its eyes narrowed on her.

Before she had a chance to act, the challyrion widened its jaws, ready to sink its fangs into alien flesh. The sight of the lapping tongue, the reddened pallet, the dripping drool stayed with her even when weapon-fire sparked the swamp.

In the blink of an eye the challyrion yowled in pain, diving back into the safety of the mire with its cranium harshly holed.

A group appeared across the swamp like a range of shadowed mountains, resolving to an intimidating solidity through the vapour of silvery mist. In a matter of heartbeats the quarian was jerked from the mire, swept to the safety of the shore.

She breathed heavily along the bank, clawing the earth beneath her. She thanked the stars for feeling her legs once more, curling her toes just to prove that she had not lost them.

Above her were a set of stairways towering up to a low cliff edge. The encampment seemed relatively clean with very few areas for the natural flora to entangle. There was only one answer that made sense. She had reached Old Pelaav and the Roekaar had deemed her worthy of safety.

"Avfa? Avfa, my sister!" Iyali'Talaas was soon yanked into an embrace.

Her entire body stiffened anew in the hold of a stranger. Only when she felt a tiny escape of bioelectricity melt into her suit did she realise it was Jaal who hugged her. She relaxed, grasping him just as tight.

"We saw you in the water!" said a soldier over Jaal's shoulder. There were three in total, all clasped in identical, beetle-like armour. Black and orange. They all looked the same. "You should be careful out there. The wilds could have claimed you."

"Thank you," Jaal breathed, his sigh full of emotion. More than she expected. He hooked his arm over her waist and hoisted her to a stand. "Thank you. Without my sister- I am in your debt."

The Roekaar whistled low. "It looks like the wilds got the better of both of you. Are you injured? We have a doctor in the camp. He can patch your wounds before you move on."

Jaal quickly shook his head. "No! No, we must see Taavos immediately. It's very important."

"Taavos? The commander?" The Roekaar exchanged glances. "He is stationed above the hill. Come, I will show you the way."

As they ascended the stairway, the quarian found that Jaal's hold had not loosened. She attempted to shift away, only for his touch to remain firm. When she resisted once more she felt his grasp clench and relax over her hipbone. A signal. _Take my lead._ She did, for the moment.

Old Pelaav was very similar to Daar Pelaav in the way of construction and planning. There were huts paired in threes, each packed in a variety of crates and supplies. There were platforms connecting the base to higher sections of the town and there were lookout points crafted into the trees. A small operations centre, but Old Pelaav may have been a satisfactory outpost with the correct resources.

The Roekaar led Jaal and Iyali'Talaas to the third hut differenced only by a closed door. Outside, the static of an intercom wafted through the speakers tethered to the porch. A voice seeped through, gravelly and harsh, curdling through the speaker like acid.

Jaal's arm stiffened around her, his breath caught beneath her hand. She did not have to see his face to know who the voice belonged to. The fear, or anger, spoke it all. _Akksul_.

 _"The aliens have been spotted on Havarl,"_ He announced, his tone reminding her of a leader full of pomposity and maleficence, _like_ _a fanatic's eulogy._ In the Milky Way, he would have done well in the outer systems. Only madmen could live wealthy on asteroids in dark space. _"They show interest in the Remnant, just like the Kett. The Remnant are very important to Havarl. To all angara. The aliens must not be permitted to sabotage that technology, or we risk the end to our war. If the aliens seek the Remnant, you must end them. And the brother who is helping them. He is a traitor, soft, weak. He does his family disservice. He deserves no more than a traitor's execution._

 _"Continue to hide in Old Pelaav. The jungle has reclaimed it, but perhaps some structures might yet stand. Stay clear, my brother. Our time for glory will be soon."_

Another spoke through the system, his voice slightly wavered, not so confident. "You have my word, Commander. The aliens will not reach the station."

Iyali'Talaas scoffed, hiding her noise with a weak cough. _The aliens will not reach the station?_ There was no greater irony.

She imagined the switch of a terminal, the shimmer of a hologram fading into nothing. The static over the intercom silenced and the door flashed open.

Once inside, Jaal locked the door shut behind them.

Within they were greeted by the cerulean-tinged complexion of an angaran male, clad in the same armour as the other Roekaar. The only difference was the war paint over his crown; two serpent tails jutting out from his cheeks like the inner spires of a trident. There were scars under blue iris'. The marks of a warrior.

Taavos turned to the newcomers with suspicion etched into every wrinkle. "May I help you?"

"Taavos?" Iyali'Talaas asked, shaking herself from her friend's hold.

The strangeness in her accent caused him to advance. Hatred wafted from him in waves. _Alien_. A dagger swished from his belt. "Who are you-?"

The air blurred in the reveal of a rifle. Taavos lurched to a halt. The snout dug into his chest. He eyed it warily, then snarled at the angara who held it. "What do you want with me? Why do you come here?"

The rifle was lowered, slightly. Taavos watched it sink and dropped his dagger.

"Only to help, Taavos," assured Jaal, his voice a low rumble in warning. "We do not come as a threat."

"And yet you draw a weapon on your own kind."

"Only when necessary. _This_ is necessary."

"Then why do you come into my home with an alien? Why do you side with them, savage?"

Iyali'Talaas frowned at the use of such a term, slowly folding her arms.

Jaal stalked up to the Roekaar, scowling into his eyes. " _I_ am not the traitor. This group Akksul has gathered will only spell doom for all angara. This alien is an ally. She helped the scientists at Daar Pelaav. Please, Taavos, see clearly. We cannot fight ourselves and the Kett."

The Roekaar growled and spat between his boots, raising his hand in rebellion. "You know nothing! The scientists should be ashamed. Help from an alien, can you not see what a disgrace that is to us? These aliens have killed men under my charge. Loyal angara, men and women! And now you have come here to kill me too. Your crowning achievement. At least tell me why you have come here, so I know why I've died."

Iyali'Talaas' shoulders tensed. She glanced to and from his person, studying him behind her tinted visors. He was slightly hazy to see, but in the rippling muscles in his arms she saw might. In the groves under his brow she saw the results of hard decisions and heavily guilt. She did not sense a tyrannical nature, at least not in the passion of his belief. Zorai's descendant, indeed.

She plucked the gauntlet from her satchel and laid it on the ground between them. Taavos watched her movements but said nothing.

"It does not matter what I say, you will not listen," she said, drawing back. "But I might as well try. Havarl is dying. You know this. The sages know this. The scientists in Daar Pelaav know this. I'm not sure about your beliefs, but I do not wish to see a planet this beautiful die if I can help it. We could have come to this town and ended the lives of all your men. We did not. And so you have a choice, Taavos. Save Havarl or let it fall to plunder. We need to find the third monolith. Will you help us?"

Jaal chimed in. "It is true what the alien says, Taavos. Listen to reason."

"And what reason is that?" he demanded, pacing between them and the artifact. His hand moved a little, involuntarily. "These aliens fall from our skies and take our worlds. More and more fall each day. How long before they too decide we are nothing? And after all the Kett have done, now you follow these... aliens? Stars, what have we become?"

"A proud, strong species of warriors that fight for their home-world," argued the quarian. "People who by what I have seen will not bow down to the Kett. But if Havarl falls, you will. You will lose your home, and your people. You will die before the war even begins."

She slunk away, allowing Jaal to fill the void. "What she says is truth, Taavos. Akksul has poisoned your mind. The Roekaar are not winning this war. The Resistance is not winning this war. We need each other. We cannot fight amongst ourselves."

Taavos sighed, wiping the sweat from his crown. "You are fortunate to still have family. The Roekaar are my family now. And I will protect them, even against a brother."

"You still have family," Iyali'Talaas sighed, gesturing to the gauntlet. "Zorai. This heirloom came from him. This was his gauntlet. And now it is yours."

The Roekaar's blue lips thinned. "What?" He looked down at the artifact, then back to the quarian, uncertainty flickering across his face. He bent down, traced the glyphs over the knuckles with a finger and stood with it in hand. "And?"

Jaal hummed warily. "I thought this was supposed to work?"

Iyali'Talaas shrugged. "So did I."

Tavavos mulled it over before snarling. "So, it was the sages who sent you. Those thin brained fools with their skutting and- they don't even care that their people are being enslaved and killed by the Kett! You expect me to help them, when they won't even help themselves, or their families?"

His gaze rested on the artifact once more. A peculiar glint surfaced in his left eye. He unfolded the slab trapping the opening and gingerly slipped his hand inside. "It is so familiar… like the museum on Aya… There are contacts inside for myoelectric control and-"

The Roekaar gasped, folding to the floor. "Salvages! What have you done to me?!"

Iyali'Talaas jerked away, falling back into an operations terminal. "A-are you alright?"

"No! I feel like my mind is on fire! I…" he breathed in deeply, his pupils devouring all of the eerie blue from his iris'. His nostrils flared. "I can see things. Places I have never seen before but… now know. Home. Family. And… Remnant. Machines, but allies. And Zorai, I was he. There is pain… desperation…"

He breathed in once more, shivering despite the temperature in the operations station remaining neutral. "The third monolith. That was where I- _Zorai_ planned to go. I feel like I must go there. Zorai calls to me."

Jaal aided the Roekaar to a stand, though Taavos quickly pushed him away, collapsing onto the stack of supply crates behind him. "I- _no_! You are alien! I cannot trust you."

"Taavos, the Remnant will kill you without our help," Jaal reasoned, taking his shoulder once more. He saw the desperation in the Roekaar and forced him to his feet. He shook both shoulders, firm in his fists. "Our homeworld deserves to be saved, _sholoan_. We must act now before it is too late."

It was sometime before the world around the Roekaar cleared. He glanced around the station, catching the curious clutter of ammunition cartridges and datapads on the floor. He grasped the wall for purchase, twisting around and resting his crown over the cool titanium.

"There is a place, deep under the surface, but not far," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I will send the coordinates. Meet me here. Please, let me compose myself first."

Iyali'Talaas felt a twinge of guilt but buried it deep inside her. "Taavos, your men-"

"Will let you leave this place freely. They will not know what transpired here. Just leave. Please."

The holo-pad over Jaal's wrist flickered in a gleaming amber. He nodded to the quarian, confirming the transfer of coordinates. And so with their disguises adjusted the two slipped away from the operations station and back into the wilds of Havarl.

The last Iyali'Talaas saw of the Roekaar leader was his shadow quivering across the wall, his arms laid bare in prayer, his crown hidden behind a shaded suit. How a gauntlet could transfer such prescious memories, she was not sure. Memory transfer was a possibility. Such technology was theorised for the Protheans back in the Milky Way though never proven. The religious belief of reincarnation was another possibility as well.

Whichever it was, it did not matter. What had her concerned was the trauma that may have damaged his psyche. When she saw him shivering, she initially thought despair. Sadness.

Though the more she thought on it, the less she was sure. Whether he was _crying_ -

... or laughing.


	18. The Third Monolith

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Seventeen: The Third Monolith

"Do you trust this Taavos?" the Pathfinder grunted, hoisting himself over the last of the remnant pillars.

It was at the base of the Remnant River where the coordinates led to, though the remaining stretch veered off the map into uncharted territory. The river lay in a gulch a few hundred metres below the forest floor, barred in all directions by grand rows of ancient remnant towers.

Unlike the swamp, the water was crystal blue and only went thigh-deep. Excess from the falls rained over them and luminescent flowers climbed the corners of both shore and metal in a peculiarly even balance. Iyali'Talaas followed the Pathfinder, hiking her legs over the last stretch of obsidian to pause at a small alcove under a waterfall.

Taavos sat just before a wall of gleaming glyphs. He had his hand pressed over one side while his crown was held with the other, as if in rememberance. There were beds of mushrooms glowing beneath his toes and the air hummed in the chime of remnant.

Iyali'Talaas felt her heart, unsure of why she felt such a sudden sense of longing and attachment. It reminded her of the vault before her fright.

Taavos glanced over his shoulder, releasing his hand when he saw the Pathfinder approach. "I thought it was going to be the three of us," he expressed, arising from the reeds.

The Pathfinder faltered by the wall, marvelling the structure with a low whistle. "Plans change. I'm the one who can speak to the remnant and there's no way I was going to let the third monolith go without seeing it first."

He slipped a hand over his left wrist and powered his omni-tool. While he scanned the area, Iyali'Talaas knelt by an odd device mounded into a patch of unspoilt earth. Jaal stepped in behind her, his shadow dimming the brilliance of the central orb.

"What is it?" he asked, swapping weight between legs to gain a better look.

Iyali'Talaas flicked the crystal with her fingers, smiling at the high-pitched ping. "It's exciting whatever it is." She felt like a child during her younger years on Illium, when she began her studies into the culture of lost civilisations. Before her slip from education, she had truly loved such history.

It was never the who, what or where of a culture that excited her. Not even the why. It was the mystery about them, the marvels of their own creations that sparked awe and excitement. Even such a small remnant device brought her joy, until Taavos snuffed the light with his palm.

She slipped away, watching as his fingers tipped and twitched over the orb. "I know this device. I've been here before. Familiar." His index finger circled the air. "One… two… three… indentations. Palm here-"

The earth begun to rumble. When his palm flattened the sphere the entire wall shrunk into the soil. Behind was a cave glinting in blue and green fungus, with mushrooms dotting the stalactites.

Iyali'Talaas had to brace her neck to prevent herself from storming forward. _Keelah._

The Pathfinder lowered his wrist, his omni-tool left to dazzle the ground. "Now this is what I've been waiting to see." He turned to the rest of his company, gradually walking backward into the gloom of the buried cave. "Anyone coming?"

The inside was just as beautiful as that on the out, not completely black yet also not completely transparent. The cave fungus branded the rock faces in soft glows, while what could only be described as moths fluttered across the flora, enticed it seemed by the more open spores.

The quarian knelt by one fungal bed and slipped a finger into a nest of spiralling wings. The moths dazzled her gloves in a million cascading lights, peppering her cage with kisses. She giggled, wondering if such tiny motions would be what a tickle felt like.

A thought occured to her. A wearisome, naive, foolish thought that only a much younger quarian could have made. But the glow of the cave eased her fears. The chiming of the remnant ruins more so. They were so little for insects. What harm could there be in allowing them to touch her once?

Her hand slowly reached up. Her fingers dipped into the latch beneath her visor, featherlight and shaken against the clasp. She heard the hiss of the release, felt the intoxicating whiff of sweet fruit fill her nose.

The rubbery silicone had only just popped from her skin when a large hand grasped her face and clamped the mask down. The quarian shrieked, instinctly reclasping the latches and gasping for breath.

She swirled around in Jaal's grasp, then pushed him away. "Bosh'tet! Idiot, bosh'tet! What do you think you are doing?" She pushed him again, harder.

He did not shrink away, instead catching her fists on the third lash. "No!"

"How dare you touch me!"

Confusion arose. He bent high over her. The shadowed half of his face appeared truly menacing, while the other caught the flittering insects; causing his freckles to glint over his cheeks and brow. "Iyali," he said, voice low in concer. He coaxed her fists down to her thighs. "You told me you could not breathe our air. You could die."

She gulped in response. "I…" She stared down at the insecets, blinking back tears. "Yes." She nodded. "Yes, I… that is true. I'm not sure what came over me."

She slipped a finger under her mask, ensuring the latches remained firmly sealed. "Thank you, Jaal Ama Darav. We should… return to Taavos and Pathfinder Ryder. They may miss us."

She shifted away from the angara awkwardly, hugging her arms to her chest. Jaal only saw her change in demeanour when they met the Pathfinder further in the cave.

"This place has been so close all this time and we never knew," Jaal whispered. "How could this be?"

The Pathfinder scanned the remains of two remnant automations, idly kicking one with his boot. "The rest of the remnant in the area probably interfered with our scanners, stopped us from detecting it. Real shame this Zorai disappeared. We could have gotten the other monoliths working by now."

"My ancestor is not responsible for the monolith failures," Taavos argued, falling in line with an end to the cave. The only end. "Zorai knew the remnant… I knew the remnant. We watched the watchers, and learned."

"Watchers?"

"The others slept. They all slept, but Zorai… we did not sleep. We watched, unmoving but seeing. Learning."

"Like the stasis fields back when I helped the scientists. Maybe Zorai wasn't effected in the same way."

"Yes. That is familiar."

"But what do we do now?" the Pathfinder asked, peering round the gloom. "There's nowhere else to go. Damn it."

"No, there is," Taavos insisted, bending down to the floor. "There must be."

The Roekaar sifted through the dirt beneath him, his fingers flicking soil into the air. Iyali'Talaas looked on from a distance, furrowing her brows when more earth was dug. That was until his fingers caught something solid, metal. Gloves, a mask and then… a disk.

The Pathfinder plucked the tablet from the angara and slipped the log into his omni-tool. From there it begun to play.

 _'Stars, the builder machines exhaust me daily. Mind and body must be engaged wholly or the attempt fails. I can't stop. Without the monoliths, the vault falls. Without the vault, the planet dies. Not much father. I'm close. So close. Just one more.'_

The transmission ended. Iyali'Talaas gazed down at the final resting place of Zorai, lit in the graceful dance of vibrant moths. It was as if the insects played for her, for her memory. It was a simple, delicate burial. Rather quite fitting for a legend, she supposed. If she ever died, she would wish her remains to be so blessed, even if no one who she was.

Taavos clenched and unclenched his hands, glaring numbly into the dirt and remains. "Zorai was a woman. She was me. We died here. Alone."

He inhaled shakily, reaching out for the disk. "May I have this, Pathfinder?"

The human tilted the tape in his hand for several moments before finally handing it to him. "If you hadn't helped us, this disk would've been in the river." He clasped Taavos' hands around it, thrusting it back into his chest. "Don't make me regret it."

The Roekaar nodded, holding the artifact in his palms as if it were the reason for the sun and moons.

The Pathfinder turned back to the cave. "We still need to find the monolith. Any suggestions team?"

Taavos grunted to his feet, slipping the disk into an external pocket. "Yes, this way. It is not far."

Behind a second incline was another wall that opened up upon the tilt of another floored device. After slipping through many corridors, they finally happened upon a chasm with their tier of the cave splitting into a vast decline that seemed to go on for miles. The very edge of their platform displayed the vast mass of the final monolith, for from base to apex it must have been over a thousand metres tall, with its head just grazing a feet of stalactites.

Iyali'Talaas swayed over the ledge, clamping her toes along the break to peer down at the great expanse below them. There seemed to be no bottom. Behind her, a sphere similar to that in the previous vault hummed over a stage of intercrossing metal. She instantly recalled the gravity well and strode very far from its proximity.

The Pathfinder opened his omni-tool. The sphere, in reaction, begun to twinkle. "Monolith is only a ride down from here. I'm right in assuming you're all going to join me?"

The quarian quickly shook her hands. "I-this is your crowning achievement, Pathfinder Ryder. You should do the honours. I would rather watch from up here, maybe see what I can uncover."

Jaal glanced between her and the Pathfinder before coming to a decision. "I would like to go. I am curious as to what we will find."

"You're more than welcome to come along." The Pathfinder finally looked to Taavos. He seemed to be in his own little world, tapping the disk in his pocket while staring into the abyss. "Roekaar. You coming along?"

He only nodded. In a flash of white light the floor split into many cross-sections. The company dropped from the ledge, gliding gracefully down in a shield of silver energy. The quarian watched their forms disappear into mist.

She sank down to the floor once she was sure she was alone, hugging her knees to her chest. For a while she remained quiet. The song of the remnant soothed her worries, calmed her fears. Placed upon solid ground, she allowed herself to enjoy the scene of the third monolith standing in front of her. A testament to time. She had spent so many days on Havarl. To find that her search for Zorai had come to an end left her feeling bare.

 _Was that not the way of all things?_

She remembered the first time she had happened upon a Prothean ruin. It was only a small outlet that had been three-quarters buried over the millennia. Her father had taken her to a village when meeting a substantial client. Being from Illium, the dealings for black market trade were always better done off world. But that only meant she saw more of the universe, though never in the shades of grey her father kept from her.

She remembered soothing her hands along the stone, memorising the etchings of a lady that always reminded her of the asari goddess, Athame. Full of grace and elegance. She remembered the spark of her biotics, the near instinct to react to it as if she and the ruin were connected. It made her feel special.

Being within the heart of a remnant ruin gave her the same indescribable feeling. It was not belonging, but something similarly close. Strange it was how she found comfort in history that belonged to others and not her own. Strange how she connected to other cultures, yet detested the one of her species.

But to the quarian, it was something she knew very few understood. Always she had been misunderstood. Always she had a destiny created for her by others, whether it was to be an heir, a sister, a pretty trinket or a hired thug. But in that moment, in the burried cave at only the behest of the third monolith, she was no one.

She was not one of the builders from the ancient time. She was not a treasure seeker. She was not even Iyali'Talaas Vas Messenger. She was a child looking up at a tower who found it beautiful. And Keelah, had she missed such simple pleasures.

She slipped a hand over her necklace, circling the ruby with her thumb. _Messenger, if only you could see this now._

She giggled, shaking her head with a smile. _I am in a new galaxy! I am on a new planet with a new species. I am sitting under a forest with an alien spire before me. Messenger, if only you were free to enjoy this with me._

Beneath her, the earth quickly quaked. From the monolith a blinding blaze leapt up its spine then shone from its eye like a ray of starlight, piercing the air above her, straight into a neighbouring wall. The quarian upended, slamming into a fungal bed with the air knocked from her lungs.

Iyali'Talaas panted relentlessly, but where the initial shock startled her into submission, her lips soon erupted in joyous, unfaltering laughter. Her giddy joy echoed through the cave, meeting any listeners deep into the chasm below. But it did not matter. The third monolith was active. Havarl had a chance. It was close to being saved.

The quarian watched the current of the beam rotate and swivel. It was not long before laughter befell her once more.

She was home.

.

…

.

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who is enjoying this story so far, especially HeavenlyCondemned, PtLacky, animexchick, Guest and Pikahopp for all your support. The story will diverge on its own course now but this is where things get super interesting. Hope you enjoy. Can't wait to post the next chapter.


	19. Medical Examinations

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Nineteen: Medical Examinations

Voeld. Renamed in the angaran codex as 'Frozen Heart' after the Scourge disaster plunged the planet into the early reign of an ice age. The orbital period was calculated to be just over fifty seven years with a surface temperature of minus forty celcius.

Orbital prints placed the world as a marble of solid frost, for there were no indentations of seas, lands or rivers. It was all the same, smoothe and icy with only a few impact craters decorating the northern hemisphere. That was to be their next trajectory once the Pathfinder returned with news of Havarl's Vault.

The cruiser was left leaderless until he returned. The quarian anticipated unregulatory breaks from the crewman, mindless wanders and idle talk. She did not expect the pilots to be at their stations, for the mechanic to be in the engine room, for the remaining species to take stock checks, fuel counts, artillery tests. Though they did, maintaining regular performances throughout the day, not even pausing to take a breath. It drove the quarian crazy.

And so she remained within the crew quarters, idly perched on the end of her bottom bunk while the soft melody of ocean waves resonated calmly from the radio beside her. She could picture a sea, crisp and white. She could envision stones swept up by chalky waves, a moonlit sky with dos-vesoan floating over clouds. The planet was so grand there must have been a coast somewhere close to where the Tempest docked. She would find it one day.

Her fingers flipped through logs on her omni-tool. There were records of angaran literature in Daar Pelaav and she had spent the better half of a day decoding the information to transfer to her device. Her translator had yet to fully configure the entire data bundle, though the few records she had access to were very interesting.

Along the main terminal screen, images of Voeld flickered in three-dimensional light. Map points were plotted in various noughts and crosses. Translated shelesh explained the various histories behind the frozen world, of the constant war with the Kett and of the splintered colonies yet to find safe harbour.

The quarian was too nervous to read such material. Her focus kept shifting to the entrance lain in front of her, warily centred on the crease in the titanium as if it were a slow-growing creeper sprouting roots into the ship. Her feet rocked on their heels; her toes tapped the floor on every third tip. As if on cue the doors swished apart and the slim body of a tall turian slunk through the gap.

Iyali'Talaas lowered her arm, scooting across her bunk. "How was it?" she asked, fidgeting with the blankets beneath her.

The turian groaned, grasping the frame of the higher bunk before slowly easing himself into the warm ruffled quilt beneath. The mattress sank. He sighed, exhausted. "How do you think it went, kid? Humiliating, but there's nothing new. Spirits, what I wouldn't do for a bottle of horosk."

Iyali'Talaas watched him crack his shoulders back, snap his neck to one side and another. His carapace was bare to her: a concaved crest of bone and shell narrowing at the waist. Without the metal he appeared far skinnier, all rigid plates and slender muscle like a skeletal bird, only far more dry and flaked with age.

She noticed the reopened cut along his maw and slowly shook her head. "I cannot believe it. You did not."

His head lurched to his shoulder, one eye peeking behind a shaded lens. "Did not what?"

"Syrus Vitarian vas Messenger, you attempted to seduce the asari, I know it! She is a doctor, _inszel_. Not someone you can so easily mate and sate."

Syrus leaned over the bunk, long arms over his knees. "Now, kid. I'm not getting any younger. Back in my day asari were the loveliest species in the galaxy. To find a…" he coughed, " common interest among like-minded individuals was never a poor decision."

He rolled his jaw, hissing through fractured fangs. "Though breaching the client confidentiality agreement is one thing. A hook to the maw, that I may have deserved. Might have to agree with you on that one. Not a good idea."

She huffed. "It would not take a matriarch to tell you that, Syrus Vitarian." She sighed, tearing a corner from the duvet and wiping the drool from his splintered lip. "You need to take better care of yourself. You are not as spritely as you once were."

"Says the kid half my junior."

Beyond the crew quarters, the window to the Medbay flashed in the passing sillouhette of its doctor. The quarian attempted to ignore her, glazing her fingers over the rim of his bruise, though her nose began to tickle in the beginnings of a sneeze. She groaned, scrunching her nose and shaking her head.

Syrus curled a claw around her wrist and tugged the cloth away from his flaking scales. "Precious of you to worry after this ol' grumble of plates, but I will be fine, kid. Go, have your checkup. You've not been sounding yourself since you came back from the mission. I fear a virus has got its claws in ya."

She sighed, drumming her toes along the floor. "Must I?"

His palms instantly stilled her feet. "Aye. At least you have a suit to prevent her from becoming too well acquainted. She's probably the first female to get such an in depth look at me, without it leading to us nesting."

He gestured to the Medbay with a claw. She did not have a chance to argue a second time.

The inside of such a place had her recoil as soon as she entered, taking several steps back until the door startled her in its close. Her eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room, her ears pricking at the caught hiss of the ventilators and the flickering lines of the holograms displayed over the counters.

It was not the machinery dotted in the far corners that worried her, nor the contrasts of shadow on too-white light that had her fingers fiddling with anything she could touch, be it her necklace, shawl or armour clasps.

Truthfully, it was the cleanliness of it all. The specifically placed gathering of utensils over the far left desk, the plastic furnishings over the two single beds strapped within the middle of the room. The pale mirroring of the tiles beneath her feet, and the sharp shriek when her toes scraped the surface. It was all too hygienic. It reminded her too much of other quarians.

Of how all starships in the Flotilla lacked any form of dirt, of how the floors, walls and ceilings glimmered in eradicated germs and bacteria just in case their enviro-suits ever malfunctioned. Worst of all, it reminded her of her own deteriorated health. It sparked a frustration that had her knotting her shawl's threads twice over.

In the corner of her visor, blue on white shifted. The asari doctor had yet to see Iyali'Talaas advance, her four fingers dancing across her terminal in a frivolous display until the quarian's soft cough had her turning around.

"Ah, you must be Iyali'Talaas," the doctor smiled, rising gracefully from her chair. "I am Doctor T'Perro. I believe a welcome is in order. It is not everyday I get to examine a quarian."

Iyali'Talaas curled her hands into her chest, swallowing a sour rush of fear. "Yes… I suppose so."

Though asari lacked the hair-line of humans, their faces were similarly humanoid; facial expressions included. Noticing the resistance, she laid her blue hand out to the quarian and acted through open eyes. "There is no need to rush. Take your time to process this, then let me know when you are ready to begin."

"What sort of examinations will I undertake, exactly?"

"A few basic reflex tests. I'm afraid this Medbay was never designed for the complexities of quarian anatomy. That's why a new ark was being developed before we left, or so I heard. I can get an accurate reading of your internal health through scans and sensors. Unlike your friend, there will be no need for any excess prodding. You're lucky."

"I'm not sure I feel ' _lucky_ ," she mumbled, eyeing the first medical bed as if it were to sprout legs and waddle.

Inhaling deeply, the quarian hoisted herself over the bed frame and slowly laid across its breadth. The very stiffness of the cushions had her head tipping from side to side, while a white light shone above, blinding her.

"Are you comfortable?"

She nodded.

"Alright, just lie back and try to relax. It will be over soon."

The light momentarily dissipated, replaced by a sliding shield of sky blue. It cocooned her in place, spread across the entirety of the bed to solidify into a glass-panelled surface. From there, rays thrummed to and from her person, beginning at her crown to glide down to her toes, then back up. She closed her eyes, holding her breath when another tickle threatened her nose.

She sniffed, groaning into her side.

"Jaal mentioned you tried to take your visor off," the asari said over the sensors, instantly causing the quarian's spine to rigid. "I asked how you were during his physical. It's important I get an accurate study of my patients, both from their perspective and others."

Through the glass a shadow stirred, flecked over the crown with a crest of tendrils. "I'm sure I don't have to warn you of the consequences. After a study of the recent flora, I've found that the fungus contains traces of mild hallucinogenic properties. That might explain your lapse in judgment."

In a flicker of white the shields disappeared and the blue asari cleared, smiling down at her. "Stay away from anything that glows and I'm sure you'll be just fine."

"I suppose, Doctor T'Perro," the quarian sighed, slipping her hands over her stomach. Her fingers continued to tap together, pinging through the quiet.

The doctor resumed completing her remaining tests, from checking the quarian's vital signs to measuring her sight through hand signals and pictures. Eventually, once the internal scans had been accounted for and her enviro-suit's records returned as normal, she was allowed to sit along the edge of the bed, her long legs just ghosting the floor.

"Looks like you're all clear," announced the doctor, tapping her fingers along her datapad. "I just need to-" Her lips stilled, then pursed.

Her eyes caught the sight of a fracture lining the quarian's enviro-suit and quickly motioned her onto her side. It was a jagged mark that lined the way from higher rib to hipbone, poorly welded by the many indents of solidified bubbles.

The asari traced the line with a finger, circling the end twice. "What caused this?"

Instinctively, Iyali'Talaas followed her finger with her own, shuddering at the memory. "An accident when I was on the Nexus."

"And this didn't harm you? Cause any irregular breathing, or loss of thought?"

The quarian sighed, knowing she would have to tell the doctor the truth. Fooling others was one thing, fooling a well trained professional was far beyond her own skill. "I did not realise how bad it was. I had the fracture for over two days before I showed symptoms. Then, I was rushed to the medical ward and was put into a coma until my health returned."

The asari frowned down into her tablet, scanning the recent vital signs and x-rays. "Over twenty four hours should prove fatal to any quarian exposed to the outside, no matter where the rupture occured. The fact that you are alive with no serious health degradation is little short of a miracle. It's very rare. The longest recorded exposure to the outside was documented for fifteen hours at the most, and the subject didn't survive. How peculiar."

She examined the area once more. "Do you have any records of this? I tried to find your file on our database, but it seems you were mysteriously absent from our records. Which is strange considering all in the Iniative went through mandatory physicals."

"Must have been lost in the Scourge," the quarian quickly said, swiping a hand over her arm. Her omni-tool flickered open. "I did keep the logs if you would like them. If it means our session is over, even more so."

As soon as the log transferred, the quarian jolted from the bed, fearing that staying within the Medbay too long would forever condemn her to physicals and tests. Considering she was the only quarian granted access onto the Nexus, she doubted there would be very many medical logs to research. It was often proven that many of the quarians on the Flotilla kept as much of their anatomy a secret so that rivalling species would not see them as weak. For the asari to have any form of reading to analyse her data to was likely to be none. The physical was just as pointless.

Still, the doctor returned to her desk in the corner, shuffling through datapads and notes. She turned back to the quarian one last time with a smile. "Your readings suggest you have a mild allergic reaction, most likely to the natural flora on Havarl. I would suggest plenty of herbal supplements and rest. No leaving the Tempest until you regain full function over your sinuses."

"Thank you, Doctor T'Perro."

"Oh, and Iyali'Talaas?"

"Yes?"

The doctor rested along the edge of her desk, arms neatly folded. "How're you doing, here on the Tempest?"

The question took the quarian by surprise. She consoled herself, quirking a curious hand in her direction. "I am not sure why you are asking, doctor? Surely my health is fine now. Is that not enough?"

The doctor did not lower her eyes, instead softened them, her smile slightly faded. "My medical expertise extends beyond the physical. I am also a trained psychologist. Mental health is just as important as a broken bone. Which is why I'm asking. Coming to Andromeda couldn't have been easy for anyone, but to be the only one of your species, and to survive what you have gone through so far, couldn't have been easy."

Iyali'Talaas stepped back, slowly waving her hands. "I do not need a councillor, Doctor T'Perro. Truly, I am fine. This is what I came here for."

"Many believe that way but we so seldom are. Am I correct in assuming you will be joining the first expedition team when we reach Voeld? If so, I just want to ensure you're prepared for what you might face. The planet is a war zone. There will be situations that might have psychological impacts. Trauma at best."

A thought occured to the quarian. She frowned, a spark of anger flitting through her sun-lit eyes. She pointed an accusing finger at the asari. "Have you spoken to Syrus about this?" The silence was her answer. She huffed, throwing a hand in the air. "I should have known." He wants to scare me away from the mission.

The doctor remained calm. "Even if he did, this doesn't make the situation any less important. I've seen enough patients change after what they see in war. I just want to ensure that you are ready, if you choose to leave the Tempest or not."

The remaining words of the asari were not even registered. All Iyali'Talaas could think of was how foolish it was to think that Syrus would let her go into battle so easily, like she was still a child to him. To use a doctor instead of confronting her personally was even more embarrassing. Humiliating, even. With all the years they had shared, it just being them and Messenger, and he decided to console someone else she had only just met.

"Thank you, Doctor T'Perro, but I will no longer be needing your service."

The doctor sighed, turning back towards her terminal. "Come see me if you change your mind. My doors are always open for you."

The quarian nodded, quickly leaving in a dash of sanguine shawl.

…


	20. The Wisest Council

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twenty: The Wisest Council

The journey to Voeld was calculated to be just under three hours. The quarian had slept little since the sixth hour for her thoughts had her constantly preoccupied.

The whistling snores of the other crewmen did not lull her to sleep, nor the constant groans and creaks of the faraway krogan that could not seem to get comfortable, even when draped out across the floor like a well-dented oxygen canister. It did not matter how far she drifted, the noise seemed to emanate through every hold.

And so she found seclusion in the meeting room, having glided over the first ramp to meet the domed apex in wary languidness. She remembered spying the crew and Jaal around the central round table, back when saving one angara had been the least of her problems.

Still, difficult it was to believe that the day of such an experience had been nearly a fortnight passed. Where the time went, she had no idea. Perhaps it was the thrill of seeing a new world and the enjoyment of exotic cultures. Perhaps it was the entanglement she had naively found herself in, with the Iniative, with the Pathfinder, and with Jaal Ama Darav.

 _It was supposed to be simple,_ she thought, sighing into the rounded arms of a metal seat. Fixed, it was, by the grand sphere of tinted glass, a surface that overlooked the entirety of space. She drew her knees to her chin, knotted her arms over to touch her toes.

Tendrils of light streaked the nebula. Navy blue plunged into black and white swirls. Even though the Tempest felt stable, it marred the universe in perfect symmetry, tilting through the rushing stars, comets and asteroids belts at a pace as close to light as possible. She wished to reach out and touch such a blend, feel the currents slip through her fingers like star-kissed water. How she had been cursed with such ludicrous ideas was beyond her, perhaps it was partially the desire to just _touch_. And _feel_.

The ramp behind rang in boot steps. Potted ferns stirred in his sway. She spied his gauntly stance in the glass, a shimmer of a tall reflection, but did not gaze back.

She had not spoken to him in a day. He was intelligent for an old turian. He could figure out why.

An object clacked against the central table, angular and heavy. Curious, she fidgeted closer to the starship's pane, squinting for an attempted understanding. Only when a flutter of music entered the dome did she finally swirl round.

Syrus stood before her, his carapace newly polished, his maw closed and stitched. The song was not one she was used to; not a funked-up ditty that played in many of the asteroid casinos or clubs back in local ports. It was smoother, lighter, drawn out with a harp and flute. A slow song that could only warrant an apology.

The turian extended a claw, curling the tip up politely. "What say you, kid? Care for a dance?"

Her eyes were as round as twin moons, dim and astonished. "Pardon?"

He chuckled, a sharp twang like cut glass. Still, it warmed her heart. "Come on, you'll enjoy it," he said, grasping her arm before she could protest and spinning them both into the centre of the dome.

His left arm wound round her waist, while his other claw placed her left arm over his shoulder. His arm then swept around her back, allowing her hands soft purchase over his pauldrons.

In the count of three, their toes met in a slow dance. Hips swayed, legs span, arms braced tight. Iyali'Talaas followed his sequence of steps as if he himself was the composer of such a piece, as if they, like in battle, were in sync.

She wished to enjoy the moment, solely. The shimmering duet of twin silhouettes playing across the floor; the washes of colour blending across them as the Tempest continued to rock through the galaxy; even their trespass into dim shadow, only to sway into the blue-lit rays of a shimmering hologram of Voeld. They shattered the fragment and re-entered the dome, twirling and laughing in each other's arms.

But she could not forget his betrayal, even if to him it was only a minor thing.

He drew his mandibles low to her shoulder, whispering a trail of faint nothings before an apology. "I've hurt you. I know it, I just know it."

Her hands tightened over his shoulders, drawing in over his neck.

"What's an old fool to do, kid? _Five_ days you were away from me. Out scouting the planet when anything could have happened to you. And I know, you're a grown female now. You have your own life. But, I can't help but think that you're making mistakes, ones a much younger you would never do."

He sighed in a low hiss. "You've never left me behind before. Never. You've never risked your life for someone other than me and Messenger. Spirits, kid. You almost died from a fall-"

"Quiet," she whispered, craning her neck to see his face. The pupils behind his specs glimmered, worry etched into every wrinkle, every scar. She slowly shook her head, resting her cheek under his chin. "Quiet. You will never understand, for even I do not understand. Jaal Ama Darav just… intrigues me."

"Intrigues, huh?"

"It is the only way I can explain it. I feel drawn to him, to his kind. There is so much mystery with them. They are so unlike any species I have ever come across, so expressionate and open. It's intriguing."

"Sounds like brainwashing to me, kid. Spirits, he has his clutches so into you that you can't even see the truth!"

"You're wrong, Syrus. Terribly, utterly wrong! And I cannot keep being this… whatever you want me to be. I… I cannot…" She inhaled shakily, weaving her arms so deeply into his armour that she could feel the rigid compress of plates beneath. "I'm not sure how to explain it. I pity them, the angara. I pity Jaal Ama Darav but even by this war, he has not been broken. Not like us."

She closed her eyes, attempting to hear the unsteady beats of his heart if to feel grounded. "Do you ever get tired of pretend, Syrus? Our past has shaped us to the point that we do not even know ourselves anymore. I'm not sure I know my self. I've always been so confident in my actions. Now, I-I am not sure, and it _worries_ me."

"Then let's just leave," he demanded, as if the answer was obvious. "Leave this place and never look back. Kid, we came to Andromeda for a new life. Our own life. You're willing to go to war for these people. Why won't you listen to me? I've been through this! I was on Palavan during the First Contact War. I was ordered to kill to save my world, be it humans… or otherwise."

He growled, bending down to rest his brow against hers. "Try waking up each morning with the spirits of everyone you've left behind riding on your shoulders. Hah, you think you've changed? My Commander was my mentor, a soldier, a veteran. I followed his orders like salt through water, just natural and yet I lapped up every speech, believed every lie that waggled from his weaselling tongue. And you know what that got me? What reward I got? To watch a starship burn from my homeworld, only to realise that inside it carried only civilians. Just wait until you've seen a child burn in front of your very eyes calling for a mother you murdered, who's blood you still see on your claws every time you close your eyes! You _will_ change. If we go to this iced planet, you will never be the same again."

He raised a talon, grazing it across her helmeted cheek with a _shriek_. "The laughter in you will die. That curious, vibrant energy you have will die. _You_ will _die_."

He looked away, staring distantly into the space over her, holding her unforgivingly firm, as if she were dying in that moment, with only his touch to keep her from slipping away. "I cannot protect you forever. You were right. I am getting older, frailer. One day one battle will be my last, but it will not be worth it if you cannot carry on for us."

The quarian licked her dry lips, feeling the wrack of his body shake her own. Perhaps they both shook together, tied as they were to one another. He was part of her soul just as she was part of his. The very thought of him one day not being with her stunned her very core.

But logic was the only answer. She had a choice to leave, just like the many other times, but the choice would not save them. They had a plan. A stable, well-thought plan that could return them to how they were before, if they continued along the path of the Pathfinder.

She did not yearn to go to war. Truthfully, she would have stayed on Havarl, or scowered the remaining clusters away from the Kett. She was not truelly naive. She knew there were horrors she would have to face, that perhaps would change her for the worst. If that meant their survival, however, it was the only plan that made sense.

"Syrus…" she choked, stroking his face with her fingers, "we have to go." _I'm so sorry._

Iyali'Talaas slipped her arms around his narrow waist, nestled into the left-fold of his carapace. She waited for the stroke of a long claw along her back, the slow prance of toes to begin anew, the steady chorus of the song to lift their spirits high. Only, neither she was provided with.

His chest distanced. Her fingers, once a loose curl keeping him in place, were torn apart. Though she could not feel warmth from his closeness, she still felt a shiver of cold from such a departing.

"Then, we go together," he decided, straightening his back. The love he bore was gone in a sniff. Only a cool, void demeanour bayed her farewell. Her hands wavered beside her, to reach out, only to be wafted back to her thighs.

When the music died, the hall was left in silence. Only his parting words resonated through. "No matter the future, we stay together. I only hope you know what you're doing."

Left alone with only the care of the holograms to comfort her, she could only hope. _So do I._

 _..._

Just wanted to say a huge thank you to PtLacky, HeavenlyCondemned, Guest and Animexchick - I'm glad you're all enjoying the story and to everyone else reading :) I'm hoping to get the next chapter out tonight but it's going to be a long one.


	21. The Empire

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twenty One: The Empire

There were times - though very few - when the quarian was glad to be in a pressurised enviro-suit. Trudging through footfalls of snow on a fully iced world was one of them.

Somewhere deep in the white blur of the blizzard, the Angaran Resistance Base was buried. Only how any being could live through such cold, Iyali'Talaas could not fathom. Even protected, flecks of sharp ice crystals stripped all vision from her visor like falling comets. Each scraped across the glass, marring the once perfect in many glinting lines. The harsh breath of winter consumed all.

She could barely register the towering hunch of Jaal Ama Darav, only the trails of his cloak shifting through the northern wind as if something half-alive. Even her turian had to kneel within the softer banks, if to cease the wind from knocking him down.

The Pathfinder braced an arm over his helmet, calling to everyone over the howling of the mountain. "The Resistance should be hauled up through the northern pass! Looks like we're going to have to climb from here."

The only indication of a trail were the swishing lamps of glowing amber dotting the rising incline, each several metres apart with some half-consumed in frosted icicles. Still, as they begun the climb, the ever-rising walls to their left begun to shield most of the snowdrift, allowing sparse moments of clarity for the great blue-grey pinnacles of the mountains to be seen jutting out into nothingness, like grand stone titans baring their mighty shoulders.

To their other side the ridge fell away to harsh descents; each falling into depths smothered in arctic mist. Hauling oneself over ridges was never a particularly easy task, yet with the added ice the quarian found herself panting far too heavily. Her fingers scraped the rocks. Her toes slipped from the highest ledges, mostly into those behind her. It seemed even Voeld taunted her, mirroring her failures in icy reflections.

Jaal caught her hand upon one such ascent, burying his toes in white and lifting her until her feet scrambled to a solid purchase. From there the path veered into stable solidity. The soft crunch beneath their feet was replaced by harsh rock, as well as the crumbling debris of an avalanche connecting ridges together.

At the height of their final climb they happened upon a narrow ravine were a glow of gold highlighted the foothold of the Angaran Resistance Base. Two resistance fighters bayed them welcome, clad surprisingly in nothing other than black jumpsuits and helmets.

"Jaal, you're back," announced one of them, letting his rifle fall to the snow. "The Commander will want to see you. Head inside before the blizzard consumes the pass."

Despite first appearances, the resistance base was far grander than even what the quarian had seen on Aya. The entirety of the cliff face was shrouded by domed metal canopies that in the immense winter, crackled and spat. Cruisers of angaran design floated beneath, awaiting pilots.

Iyali'Talaas strayed to one such cluster, if to marvel at the craftsmanship. Sturdy along the wings, platformed in two tiers and controlled by a fanned propella at the base. The cruisers had her fingers itching to fly them. Inside the mountain were similar constructions, only land-based vehicles with windows glinting in sleet.

Much of the architecture within the base had been smothered or caved. There were hints of advancement: generators, ventilators, radiators that seemed to emit infrared light. Yet it did not relate to remnant or angaran as far as Iyali'Talaas was aware, for there were no humming veins or flora-inspired designs. It reminded her of basic technology, all metal bulks with no aesthetic design. Perhaps that was the purpose, considering it was a base of operations. Stark, cold and solid. Military at its heart.

Finally, they arrived inside the operations centre. Only it was not the angara or militia that any of the company noticed, but the great holographic image of a planet circling the entire chasm. Terminals sprouted from its base like roots, each holding screens and codes.

Iyali'Talaas reached for her omni-tool, only for Jaal to still her arm. He shook his head slowly, causing her device to disappear.

"Commander Anjik Do Xeel," he greeted, turning around to lightly bow at the hologram.

Ahead the female stature of an angara graced them from along the ramp overlooking the planet, her pink features sour and stern. She crossed the rampart and strode down the stairway, arms laced behind her back. Each step was made with precision; accuracy. She indeed was a commander, or at least played the role quite fittingly.

At the end of the platform her eyes turned to each of the company, narrowing only further until hers met Jaal. Her lower lip quirked, though the throbbing vein in her crown seemed to suggest it was a painful action, not one of sole gratitude. "So, these are the _vesoen_ Efvra told me of. They don't appear to be much. Not like our other warriors. And you expect us to win this war with them?"

Jaal chuckled, coughing deeply into his fist. "They may not appear to be strong, Commander Xeel, but I promise you, these are the aliens that helped save Havarl. They have braved the worst of our native creatures and survived. I know they will not fail us."

"I see."

Drifting from her back, her arms advanced, wide. It was only then that the quarian caught the sight of a missing limb, inhaling quick at noticing the loss of both the commander's left hand and forearm. A battle wound, she was sure. "You are welcome here, as an ally of the angara. For now. Help my people and you may become more. Actions display your soul's intentions."

Pathfinder Ryder thrust one arm out, watching with a smirk as her own joined his. Commander Anjik Do Xeel huffed, impressed.

"I'm guessing by the appearance of your base not much has worked in the line of tactics. If your current plan hasn't worked then we'll need a different strategy," he said, gesturing to her base with a nod.

The Commander scanned her operations with a scrutinising eye, flicking across the human in a similar way. "Yes, we have held the Kett at bay very well, but a decisive blow has yet to happen. The longer this drags on, the greater our disadvantage. Our main weakness is a lack of fighters, though with you here that might just change. _If_ you are as Jaal promises."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Splinter your group. Take several of your team down to the valleys and cleanse the Kett where they stand. Go to the lookouts and see what you can do to help our neighbours. We have made plenty of natural defences to deter the Kett, but the wilds aren't as timid. I could also use a few of your people in one of my campaigns."

At the sour fall of the Pathfinder's brows, the commander laughed and elaborated. "Not to worry. I can promise they will be safe, as safe as can be on this planet. Most likely safer than going into the valley alone. Do as you will but I will need a handful of your men. Speak to me when you are ready to assign them."

Lastly, she ushered the newcomers to one-side, peering behind to her people before whispering, "Please bare in mind, alien. Though you have Efvra's council, there are many here that will be wary of you. Jaal is a seasoned warrior with unmatched passion, but even travelling with him will not grant you save haven. Be careful."

"And," she warned as she begun to walk away, "if I hear of any of my men being injured because of one of your people, I would suggest leaving this planet _very_ quickly. Aider or no, I do not allow treachery to stand unpunished."

Once the final warning had taken root, she slipped away into the shadows of the chasm, leaving the newcomers alone in a far corner by ice and stalactites.

Iyali'Talaas stared into the hologram of the planet, watching the display tilt and shimmer. There were navpoints on its surface, labelled noughts and crosses. She had to wonder, _was it a real-time image, pictured by satellite, or a plan of plotted targets?_

"Seems some of you are going to have to stay here," the Pathfinder spoke after sometime, his keen gaze already shifting between those in his company. "Seems I'm going to need a lot of muscle on my assignment. Might need to return to the Tempest to gather a squad. But you three, you could keep the angaran commander sweet while we do a little sight seeing. What do you think?"

Syrus clicked his mandibles, a hidden ire slowly surfacing. "More like play bait, you mean."

"Now, now let's not be hasty. According to her holiness over there you guys will be taking the easy route. You won't be on your own. You can get an in depth look at the battle tactics for me. In here, you will be my eyes and ears."

Jaal's eyes quickly furrowed. "You want to spy on the Resistance?"

"Not essentially. Look, we need mutual cooperation, which means we help you, you help us. Being cautious isn't a problem here, Jaal. We'll be doing your people a favour." The Pathfinder sighed, tapping the side of his helm. "Kallo, prepare the Tempest. I'm coming back. Get Drack and Liam ready to move out."

 _'Copy that, Ryder,'_ his comms link responded before a shimmer of light faded from his helmet. The Pathfinder returned to the others. "Better ask what the commander wants. I'll see you all when your task is complete."

With that he was gone, disappearing into the vast chasm just like the commander. Iyali'Talaas was left with her turian, Syrus, while Jaal Ama Darav distanced himself to query the campaign that required their help.

Since the mission began the quarian sensed that something had changed within her turian. She drew him to a patch of crumbled mountain rock with a hand, coaxing him to perch on one end while she sat on the other. "Syrus, about our fight-"

He sighed, rubbing the dead scales away from the base of his neck. "Kid, forget about it. That's not important anymore."

"Then, what is wrong? You do not seem like your lively self. Is this because of the planet?"

His left leg drummed the floor incessantly, inching further and further into soft snow. "I told you I wasn't comfortable coming here. This place, it's like the stations back on Palaven."

He chuckled, hoarse and throaty. He pointed to the terminals beneath the holographic planet, grinning from mandible to mandible. "Over there? I can picture where our commander sifted through his reports. Knowing now what he must have knew, spirits, makes me sick. Over there? We used to test our smaller ordinance. Rifles, stock rechecks, all small-sized jobs, but in the end, I knew some of the men taking those weapons wouldn't be coming back. It's the same here. Look around you."

She did. The angara seemed to be of a variety of ages, some small, some tall, some youthful, some old. A mixed batch for a militia.

"I expect half of these to be dead within the year. A third by the second. Always happens when families play war." He wiped the side of his maw, his third talon dug deeply into his face. "Being here was the worst situation you could put me under, kid. The worst!"

"Then why come back?" she whispered harshly, searching the base to ensure no one could hear. "Why follow me to the planet at all? You could have stayed on the Tempest."

"Because of you, kid! Because…" he growled, striking the snow in his rise. "Because of _you_."

Iyali'Talaas felt her chest swell uneasily in emotion. She bit her tongue from responding, instead choosing to allow the cold to clear his thoughts while Jaal joined their company.

"Well, flat-crown, what does she want us to do? Pillage a colony, burn their supplies, attack their fuel lines, hmm?" Syrus demanded, causing the angara to falter in his steps.

"Neither," Jaal uttered, his gaze shifting between the two of them apprehensively. "There is a colony of miners that we know to be captured by the Kett close to Hjara Station. It is a small _delaav_. We are to see the leader of the operation, Kjal De Onaad. He is in the medical centre. Come, I will show you the way."

The entirety of the angaran base seemed to be a warren of halls and corridors, many splintering off into sub-sections too small even for the quarian to slip inside. Others held private quarters and militia supplies, though the variety of crates seen seemed far too few for such a grand base. Either the Resistance hid their ammunition well in case of Kett infiltration, or there were not that many supplies at all. If that was true, the quarian wondered how long a war with the Kett could truly last with them on the winning side.

Through a blanket of warmed vapour she stepped into a much smaller hall than the previous. With the supply of many heaters, the medical ward was truly warm, but even so there were clusters of icicles along the eastern front were some of the mountain had caved in. Though what surprised her more were the numbers of injured groaning and withering in pain.

On her passing she counted eight at least, though that was only near the entranceway. How many lay in the neighbouring tunnels she dared not think on.

In her passing she caught the snicker of mischief, aimed directly at her. She paused in her walk for a moment, tilting back to find two angaran males staring her down. The instinct to whip her sidearm out was strong; her fingers twitching over her thighs.

The taller of the males, deep blue skinned, reigned further over her in an intimidating manner. His shadow shaded the entirety of her shawl, yet when she did not back down nay even move, his lips curled back menacingly. Spittle soon splattered her boots.

"And here I thought the watchers dealt with the aliens coming in here," his friend vocalised, patting the pistol attached to his outer thigh.

Iyali'Talaas felt a presence close-in behind her. She slipped a hand over her Equaliser, steadying her breaths while she waited for him to also speak.

A hand touched her shoulder, and a deep voice curled through the space between them. "This alien is our ally. I would suggest showing her respect. Unless you would rather deal with me."

"I'm not sure about respect, Jaal Ama Darav," she whispered, imitating a joyous cackle. "But they will have nothing to fear from me. It's a shame," she tsked, slipping in close to the tallest angara.

He did not back away until she bore her own sharp incisors, displaying them in a mirthless grin. In the correct light, he could most certainly see them through her visor's mist. "I do enjoy the taste of flesh in the weak and stupid."

The blue-skinned male suddenly blanched, his complexion taking on a paler shade. Both glanced between her and Jaal before skulking deep into the base, cursing in variants of shelesh.

Jaal's chest rumbled joyously. "Impressive. You were not serious about tasting their flesh though, right?"

The drop in his smile had her truly laugh. "No, Jaal Ama Darav. I do not eat angara."

"Good. That is… good."

The continued through the medical ward until they finally settled in a small alcove surrounded by gurneys and medicine. By their front was a counter filled with empty herbal supplements and jars. A woman lay across the far end hunched in pain. By her side stood another angara, male and tall, tinted in grey and lilac freckles. He attempted to heal her, spooning oils through her plump lips.

"Calm now, sister. All will be free soon," he soothed, resting her head on his lap. "Hush now, let the stars take the burdens of this world away from you. Let the whispers of your soul keep you clear in mind, make you strong in body. You will survive this, I promise you. Simply, stay in my arms a little while longer. Please."

The woman continued to breathe. The clutch on her abdomen soon disappeared, replaced by a calmed sigh.

He did not look up but seemed to know Jaal and his companions were there. "Are you the recruits Anjik Do Xeel sent? I hope you are better at fighting then this one." He stroked her cheek, lightly kissing her crown. "She will live but she was young, stubborn. Thought she could take on the entire Kett force by herself. Got punctured in the gut because of it."

He silently slipped from the counter and lay her head into a mound of ragged cloth. "Here's hoping the Kett grant us a calmer tide the next time we hit them. I'm not sure how much longer we can withstand. We're losing men daily. Most aren't even dead. They've been captured."

He turned back to them, a stern line etched into the swollen scar over his forehead. "There's a labour camp three days journey from here. Our intel speculates the captured came from Hjara Station. We're going to go there first, then visit the neighbouring colonies before finally hitting the camp. Any questions?"

"And what of the provisions?" asked the quarian. "Are any others coming along?"

Kjal De Onaad shook his head. "I have a small team set up but you're welcome to gather whatever supplies you'll need for the journey. I can't promise it'll be an easy ride travelling through Voeld but you'll be safer in one of our land rovers than an aircraft. Takes twice as long but there's less chance we'll be noticed by Kett. Anymore questions?"

Syrus leaned back against the nearest counter, tapping his arm with a claw. "And you say it's a simple rescuing job? Nothing else?"

"As far as we know. Might need to end a few Kett cruisers, blow up a few of their supply lines, but we're mainly there for the miners."

Syrus nodded thoughtfully, twirling a talon beneath his chin. "Then we accept," he said, his finality ending the conversation before more questions could be answered. He did not debate a reward, did not complain about the lack of information, or who the miners may have been. That unnerved Iyali'Talaas more than she cared to admit.

Before she had a chance to question him, the turian had already begun to stalk through the resistance base, back towards where the Tempest had been docked. Her feet made to follow him out of instinct. Only a hand on her shoulder ceased all movement.

"Come, there is something I must show you."

With gravid silence as deafening as space, Jaal Ama Darav guided the quarian across the remaining halls. Through it all she saw the meter on her enviro-suit plummet to below freezing temperatures. He was leading her outside.

At the end of the second corridor was an opening that led onto a different side of the mountain, far higher than the shuttle port or even where the Tempest had been placed. There were two heaters on either side of the entrance, casting the icy way ahead in an eerie blend of ethereal blue and fire gold.

It was a mostly barren ledge but it opened up to a horizon of distant mountain peaks, with valleys so smothered in white that only the thickest rivers could be differentiated from the land.

The quarian swept a hand over her visor, bracing another arm around her waist to steady the wind from beating her armour too harshly. "Why am I here, Jaal Ama Darav?" she asked, suddenly wary. Though the view itself was spectacular, she could not help the unease that stirred uncomfortably through her gut.

The height itself made her legs shake.

Jaal trod over to the very edge of the cliff, beckoning her to him with an outstretched hand. Fear dared her not to go, but trust was a two-way relationship. All she saw in his darkened stance and pale face was honesty. Always such.

So she reached out a quivering hand and allowed him to draw her close, until her fingers tangled in the fabric flaring over his chest. The very descent below them seemed to go on forever.

He swept his arm outward to the horizon. At first she did not see what he meant, only seeing further pinnacles casting a jagged line across grey-washed sky. But then, in the distance, she saw the shaded outlines of twisted spires and an eerie light striking one side of a long elevation.

She tiptoed further forward, curling his hands around her waist for support. "What is that?"

Jaal Ama Darav drew in a shuddering inhale. "What do you believe it is?"

The statue at the centre of the pinnacle seemed familiar to her, yet she was not sure where to place it. It overhung from the rock like a crucifix, twinkling in varient hues of flaxen as if signalling others to its vicinity. "Is it remnant?" she asked, staring at what she thought to be a distant, glittering temple.

He tugged her back to him, keeping his hands firm on her waist. "No."

Again, she tried, squinting through the evening blizzard that only seemed to thicken. "Is it angaran?"

"No."

Her voice lowered to a conspirational whisper, one only he could hear above the wind. "Then, who built that place? Why is it on Voeld? It has to be either. It cannot be…" her lips pursed questionably, the answer lying just out of reach.

The temple soon became clear. As if the very skies ordered _calm_ and the snowy curtain enshrouding its identity were drawn open. For a dwindling moment Iyali'Talaas was taken back to the atmosphere over Aya, where she first saw a cluster of hive-like beacons adrift in an unsteady cosmos. Each held the same form as the statue, hung like downward daggers ready to plunge into the world beneath their blade, ready to spoil the planet to ruin.

The correlation between them was uncanny. It was as if the temple itself had been launched from a crashed starship, layered into the mighty foundation of a rising empire. The spires were its crowning sceptres.

Then, her focus switched to the ports along its spine, that oddly began to rove, searching the valley beneath. Each glazed like an eye, watchful and intent. Iyali'Talaas then knew, with certainty and terror, that among the many that the eyes sought for, she herself was one. Yet she dared not believe it. She thrashed in Jaal's hold, attempting to shake the shuddering realisation from her thoughts and mind and heart.

And then he told her and she knew. The name rung true to her mind, vast and impassive as a glacier, stirring her fingers into worrisome trembles that threaded knots into his cape. She had known it would come to pass. She had known the enemy of the angara to be ruthless, had heard the stories, seen for herself the atrocities just by ghosting through the base like a shadow.

It did not truly register, though. None of it had. Not until she saw the impassive monstrosity that now did not seem that far away. The idea of the Kett was always such a simple thing that did not warrant worry. To see it so close, at such vastness…

She trembled, soaked to her core in speckled frost. It was an empire they fought. An empire that at such a standing could conquer the entirety of Heleus.

"Can we truly end that, Jaal Ama Darav?" she asked, her eyes round in fear. "There are so many. Your people are so few."

Jaal in that moment seemed to have aged beyond measure. Amidst the raining snow and tepid cold, he seemed as torn as she felt, his once bright-eyes dim against his lilac pallor. In that heartbeat, his hope, his fight, his passion had dwindled to nonexistence.

Then their eyes met. Innocence and fear mingling into one. Whatever thought crossed his mind in that stare hardened his courage to a keen edge. He tipped her face to the horizon with a finger, embraced her so close that the pulse of his bioelectricity seeped into her agitated bones. " _I_ must. _We_ must. We must fight so that our children can one day live in a galaxy without fear of tyranny. And this, Iyali, is now your home. You too must fight, or the Kett will take all that you love."

He closed his eyes, giving her a view of the folds over his eyelids. Even they had the pattern of freckles that reflected in the shine of her eyes. Feeling herself relax, she too closed her eyes, leaning in to touch his forehead, flesh to glass.

 _I will do what I can,_ she silently promised, nestling into his neck. _I cannot promise I will stay, but I will try. And if the time comes when I leave, I hope you do not feel ill of me. For it is who I am. For this, Jaal Ama Darav. I am truly sorry._


	22. Calm Before The Storm

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twenty Two: Calm Before the Storm

The land rover scuttled through the frozen winter for the better half of a day. Within there were many seats, each lacking a belt and strap, much unlike the aircraft that escorted the quarian to Mithrava. To her, that had been a paradise.

Despite having six wheels, the rover struggled up the steeper hills as well as the jagged arrangements of rubble protruding through the ice. In consequence, the entire vehicle oscillated like an old sailing wreck on a high tide, shifting through gorges with as much crackling as a shattered mirror. Even the engine chugged unhealthily, exhaling long wisps of ashen smog. How a blizzard could even hide such a mess was beyond the quarian, for it sure clouded the tinted panes behind her, not that there was much to see in the first instance.

As the rover continued to sway, the quarian felt her gut churn uneasily. Despite holding either side of her seat, her shoulders constantly battered the arm wrests. Much of the paint had been chipped away already.

"Are we close to Hjara Station?" the quarian gasped, holding her stomach far too firmly.

She wanted to curl in on her side and take the remainder of the ride while unconscious. Only then could she find some relevant reprieve from the many noises clambering over her sound processors for dominance. The constant bawl of joyous rabble; the sharp jerks of the rover, even the whistling caterwaul of the wind pressing into the exterior steel, fighting for entry into the vehicle.

 _Keelah, I feel like I'm going to puke-_

Jaal Ama Darav gave a valiant bellow that startled her into her seat. He patted many of the other angara over the arms, a twinkle glinting behind his monocular eye-piece. She may have pondered on how truly at ease he was with his brethren, if she weren't still trying to keep bile from decimating her helmet.

 _Kett be damned, I should have taken the aircraft._

Opposite her flailing limbs, Syrus sat bent over his legs, his cheeks between his knees. Two palms flattened either edge of his neck, each claw spasming in barely contained frustration. And she thought she was poorly.

Jaal clamoured over the edge of his forward-facing seat. A grin split his cheeks into swollen plums. "Come here! Come here, Iyali! I have something you should see."

 _If it is another one of his distant relative's prided daggers I swear to-_ She yelped, caught by one hand and flung across the entirety of the cockpit. She landed, ungracefully, into his neighbouring seat - her legs dangling over the headrest.

She barely had a chance to shimmy into comfort before she was dragged anew into Jaal's lap. His chest pulsed in deep reverberation, both of his long arms stretching to encompass her. There she remained, nauseous and frustrated, in his care. Though it was he who was acting the child.

It truly was a terrible imagining, never mind reality, for the younger of the squadron to stow away five flasks of _tavetaan_ knowing very well that such liquor would have to be shared eventually. It was not long before the interior of the land rover mystified in the fumes of a brewery. A river had even begun to form along the floor, undulating, spitting, gliding across the cockpit like berry juice, only far sweeter.

'Old friend,' the liquor had been titled in angaran. Meant, she was told, to heighten spirits. The term must have been a loose translation, for by the glassy wandering eyes, blubbering squabbles and tossing fists, it surely meant drinking until one could no longer walk - or speak - maturely without laughter bubbling somewhere in the conversation.

It seemed no matter the species all would return to the _old friend_ one way or another.

 _Truly,_ she bemused, staring into the frost-encrusted windscreen ahead of her, _it was a fitting name._

The angara continued to pat her helmet in an attempt to smooth the ruffles from her shawl like a feline pawing tapestry. She groaned, feeling another sickly wave tumble up her throat. "Jaal Ama Darav, you are not helping!"

His unfaltering grin broadened, so much so that she could see how the deep rouge liquid stain the rim of his teeth. His breath tasted of acidic berries. She licked her lips, savouring the scent in her nose.

"Nonsense, my friend! Come. See what I have to show you."

His hands extended to the windscreen in an exaggerated, mystical way.

The driver knocked the gearstick left and the window begun to shimmer. Small lines of heaters warmed the glass and in the better half of a minute the sleet fixed into the panes gradually melted into watery vapour. The view ahead cleared into soft mounds of grey-on-white layering the valley, while the lightest turf flaked away from the dunes in a passing wind.

The rover followed a glimmering outlet of inland sea that mirrored their reflection, even though deeper scars of ghostly colour also cascaded across the surface. The headlights were soon switched on to brighten the way. A small cluster of pillars formed alongside them.

It was when the tires finally reached the shoreline that Iyali'Talaas noticed the clusters falling away, replaced by far taller, more cumbersome gatherings of icicles. Such natural arms branched along the entirety of the rising incline, reaching up into the clouds. At first she thought them manufactured, but the cuts of their bodies were too arbitrary, too natural for even the most delicate of stonemasons to imitate a true likeness.

"We call them _gesh asan voan_ ," he whispered against her cheek, fogging the corner of her visor in warm breath. "Hands reaching for the stars."

 _Hands of a titan,_ she thought. _Many different hands and many different faces._ She could see such faces in the girths, two sagging holes for eyes and protruded blobs for noses. It made her giggle.

"Are they across all of Voeld?' she asked, the brightness of her eyes dancing across the windscreen like twin fireflies.

"There are some splintered groups, yes, often by remnant. But these are the closest this side of the Resistance. They've been here longer than we have. It's my hope they continue to stay long after I'm gone."

Through the pillared grove a settlement appeared under the haven of a shallow cave. The land rover skidded across the final stones before juddering to a halt in the snow. With the tires safely sunk, the rear compartment opened. The departed heat forced the squadron out into the cold.

"Welcome to Hjara Station," declared the squad leader, Kjal De Onaad. His golden tone paled into the oncoming storm, but his arms spread wide to embrace such weather. He breathed in heavily. "It has been too long since I tasted fresh air! Come, speak to the camp. See what tales of Kett pass between our brethren. Then, we must gather the remaining supplies housed here and lead on to our next _daar._ Come, dalliance is for the weak souled."

The remaining party split into many differentiating sections of the town, from the domed homes sheathed in stalactites to the manned claw machines pinning ice and stone from local quarries to the cave walls. Iyali'Talaas followed Jaal Ama Darav's shivering shadow, while Syrus stalked off into the untamed wilds, his silhouette the last to be seen fading into white obscurity.

He was a survivor at heart, old and proud. He would return to her when his stomach had eased. If only she could be so fortunate. The sturdy ice beneath her feet felt truly life changing. Even the freshness of filtered air cleared her mind of ache, for a time. Still there was a lingering sickness, one not even the depths of Voeld's cold could completely numb.

"So, what is our assignment, Kjal?" Jaal asked, falling in line with the elder angara.

Striding tall through the town, all of the common folk seemed to mirror Kjal's strength. Those few angara nestled in faraway corners fled to their homes as soon as he saw them. The researchers and scientists returned to their tasks across the base as if being assessed by a matriarch. Even the stray engineers, dubbed in oil and frost, found some repairs to mend. The station required order and he was not their momentary reprieve.

"You've seen how our brothers react to me," he uttered, the swell in his crown dipping under the low-hung beam of a metal claw. Kjal swung beneath them, testing their strength, ensuring that even the most sturdy appearing machinery had yet to be tempered. "Our people look to command, but they also cower from it. You are a skilled fighter, Jaal. Many will open to you."

He paused along a railing, turning back to eye the quarian up and down. His scared upper lip curled. "Even with an alien for company."

"And how to you propose we gather this information?"

Kjal leaned back against the rail, propping one foot over a cracked container. "Scower the station, find all the leads that feel right in your heart. The widowed. The grieving. Those are the ones who have given up the fight. But those still hoping are a treasure trove of true intel. Find them. Hear them. Report back. It's as simple as that."

Dark eyes scanned the base from his place; the quirk of a frown further harshening his features. "I fear treachery maybe underfoot. The Kett are deviant, clever. But," he said, raising webbed fingers, "they have never claimed anyone from this station. Until now. Find the liars or stick to the truth, I care for little. All that matters is saving the miners while they still breathe. We will deal with the rest later."

Jaal slightly curled in on himself, reaching Kjal's side like a child stammering up to a father. He glanced around, his neck throbbing in gulped saliva. "You mean to say that one of our fighters, our people, our _strength_ is a traitor? That cannot be!"

He grasped Jaal by the shoulders, forcing him up straight and true. _Courage in strife._ "I need you strong, Jaal _._ It hurts to think it so, but caution now is one less sister captured at the hands of those Kett. Steal your heart to a blade, my friend. Stars guide you."

It was as if some form of bravery had been passed to the quarian's friend, for as soon as Jaal's touch parted from his leader, his face became steeped in an iron hope that even tinted his skin a shy silver. Radiance glowing even in shaded ice.

Iyali'Talaas folded her arms, departing from the outside to follow him further into the town. To say she was impressed was a vast understatement. And fearful.

They drifted up a rounded stairway to the foundation of an ice-bathed section of the town, drawn in many rings on the floor. Rings of a platform, it seemed, or the imbedded wing of a once spaceship. There were containers strung up along the left intersection, while dominating the centre stood an oval counter with weapons decorating the shelves. A merchant and her store.

Jaal took Iyali'Talaas to the side with a touch, leaning down to where her ear would have been. "I believe in what Kjal said. He is wise and true. You will talk to the merchant, see what you can uncover."

Iyali'Talaas peeked over her shoulder, then balanced all her weight on one leg. Her hand caught her hip. "And while I play detective, Jaal Ama Darav, you will be doing-?"

He grinned, nodding east. "Exploring. Recognisance. Do not worry. I will not be far."

"As if I am to be your damsel? You're my captain in shining blue-," she pouted, taking the fabric of his cape in one hand and running it through her fingers. "What _is_ this? A ceremonial garb?"

Jaal cleared his throat, unthreading it from her fingers. "It's a _rofjinn,_ and yes. Sort of. It is a badge of honour to my family, and the Resistance."

"Then you are my captain in shining _rof-j-iin,"_ she taunted, muttering her poor pronunciation over again under her breath. "Rof-geen, rofgien, rof-"

"Hush, now. Go. Speak to the merchant. Return to me at any time, dear one. I will not be far."

Her lips continued to trace the word even when he had departed down another stairway, the slight bobbing of his heather neck-flaps descending to the floor, while his rofjinn flared in the breeze. _Shining captain indeed,_ she giggled, biting her lower lip. _He would make a very fitting captain._

Upon meeting the counter she was greeted instantly by wary glances and slow recoils. The angara further away clutched datapads and containers to their chests, as if she might attempt to steal them. She would have huffed if she was not there undercover. _Appearances. Maintain appearances._

She spread her elbows over the surface, then picked at the ice under her gloves. There was one female that did not hinder in approach, cockiness and arrogance resonating in waves from her saunter alone. The stretch of long arms sliding across the bar, east to west; the tap of a pistol along her thigh and the eager glint under a furrowing brow-line. A silver-tongued charmer in warm blood.

"Not everyday we get an alien who doesn't want to kill us," she tittered, rolling her neck along her shoulders. "But everyone needs a weapon, be it alien or brother, and stars know you'll find it nowhere else other than with my caravan. An interesting little creature like you will need fair supplies. As you can see, I've plenty. Question is, what have you got to trade that's worth my interest?"

"That depends," the quarian sighed, languidly rolling a stray crystal between her hands. "What's rare on Voeld? And do not spin the, 'well there was this one item I wanted from this person,' because I am not for sale on errands. What pretty little bauble will get that mouth of yours to trade gossip?"

The Merchant grinned like a fanged beast leering at its supper. "Now that is interesting. Not many are so upfront. You're no fool. I see this. But I am not so cheap to tempt. Shall we begin with the Kett? I have no interest in them. There are enough of them chomped on in the snow to scavenge. Don't need items from my people either. I supply the Resistance, so what they bring back is used produce. Worthless. But alien gear not of the Kett, now that is a treasure alright."

Her hand rose to the quarian's chest, circling the necklace with a finger. "As you say, _pretty bauble_. I will trade for this. I want it."

The quarian slapped her hand away instantly, pulling back with curled arms. "Why do you want my necklace? It is just jewellery."

The Merchant cocked her head to the side, snickering behind a closed fist. "I'm perceptive, darling. You've been catching that thing every moment you get. Means it's valuable, important. And I know tech when I see it. Question is, will you part with it?"

"Is there nothing else?" the quarian asked through clenched teeth, caging her necklace with her fingers. "Anything at all? Anything perhaps worth equal in value?" A thought occured to her. She hated herself for it, but it was a worthy price. "Remnant, maybe?"

"Remnant?" The Merchant leaned further over the counter. Ice cracked beneath her. "Go on, darling. Surprise me."

IYali'Talaas thought over the trade, weighing the cons and advantages in several strayed glances. Her head hurt in indecision, yet she eventually reached into her satchel and drew out a black object: her obsidian cube.

She delicately placed in on the counter and watched the Merchant's piqued interest flow.

She tilted it in several swift angles, measuring its worth by memory and sight alone. Only when the veins within started to pulse did she finally return it. "Interesting. Undamaged by my account, though worn along the right face. Still, remnant is a brilliant sell back on Aya. Where did you find it?"

 _On Havarl,_ she wanted to say, only she kept her lips firm.

The Merchant tapped her chin thoughtfully, then smiled and held the cube up to her chest. The quarian felt the departure of the remnant device as if a part of herself had been swept away. She felt empty for it. "I'm all yours," the Merchant decided. "What do you want to know?'

"The missing miners. What really happened to them?"

"Is that truly all you want to know? Alright, but the talk around the station isn't as enlightening as you hope. The miners went out one night and didn't come back. Their families went looking out in the snow, but they all returned alone. I'd suggest talking to one of the family members. Maybe one of them could help your search. Or not. Either way, that's all I know, darling. Pleasure doing business with you."

Iyali'Talaas jumped over the counter, caught the angara by the shoulder and quickly twisted her around. There were clicks from weapons around her, but she did not focus on them. "Part of our trade was to share equal valued goods. I provided a very rare item, but you have yet to keep your end of the bargain. If you do not know more than what you have told, at least tell me the names of people I can talk to. Families who may wish revenge."

The Merchant sighed. "If it keeps you from stirring trouble and faltering my business, fine. There's one I know of. Goes by the name Menra Orak. She is a very old female but has lost two sons to the Kett. Very stubborn. Braves the open every night in search of them but never finds them. Speak to her if you care so much."

Iyali'Talaas nodded gratefully, slipping from the counter. She slunk away from the merchant and did not look back.

….

Once reunited with Jaal Ama Darav, the two departed from the populated areas of town to meet with a quaint little hut just slightly away from the cave mouth. Even in their approach they could see the elderly female the merchant spoke of: a very small woman, her blue skin flecked in greys and whites. She wobbled under dim porchlight, using the railing for support with both hands.

What surprised Iyali'Talaas was the lack of other angara with her. They were known for grand families, but she was alone.

It was Jaal who was the first to greet her, using the traditional hand gesture he once showed Iyali'Talaas. "Menra Orak?"

Her hands shook along Jaal's but her eyes still seemed to remain alive, glaring up at him with a glimmer of curiosity. "Do I know you?"

"My name is Jaal Ama Darav. We were sent with a team from the Resistance to investigate the disappearance of the local miners. We believe your sons may have been involved."

She clasped her trembling lips. "You… you have come to find them? My lost children? Oh, bless the stars! Bless the Resistance." She stared up into the clouded sky, speechless. Then, a thought seemed to occur to her, for her eyes fell suddenly downward and her lips set in a firm line. "Those scientists! I told them, I told them Jaralik and Savarl were not dead, but they would not believe me! I watched as each of my family left to find them, only for them to return without my children. They had to return to Havarl, to leave me here alone. The only one searching for my sons."

Her knees shook as they met the ramp, her palms flat together, beseeching. "I will tell you all you need to know, young one. Just promise me you will bring my sons home! I… I could not live in this galaxy not knowing if they perished."

Jaal slowly descended to one knee, cradled her hands. "I will find your sons, elder. If in death or in life, you will have peace."

Her eyes fell glossy. She slowly nodded.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent with the rescue squadron, formulating possible abduction sights and transporting the remaining supplies into the cargo hold of their land rover Hjara Station had continued to fund the rescue with people and ammunition, but in the end the scientists continued with their work, leaving the team some barely charred supper before their inevitable return to the valley.

While the crew ate in the comforts of the town by cosy ultraviolet torchlight, Iyali'Talaas stayed just along the border, watching the misty air swirl in circles beyond her perch at the cave entrance. The slab of metal bared her enviro-suit from the cold, but that did not prevent frost from crackling in the corners of her visor.

She ripped open a sachet of nutrient paste, clipping a tube to one end and inserting the other into her induction port, just below her ribs. She felt the normal ease of the substance fill her stomach. The once gut-churning growl quietened into mellow mewing, which settled when she pressed a hand to her gut.

She saw the reflections of the crew in the wall aside her. Spied the raucous chorus of well-hearted banter, of gloved hands and shivering shadows reenacting sequences of events in the snow. She watched them gnaw on half-charred challyrion meat and black-capped fungus, drink flasks of substances that still smelt sweet despite her distance.

Her hand squoze the nutrient paste, cracked it. Droplets of black seeped from the new tear, spoiling the ice between her feet.

"Do aliens not partake in group gatherings?" had come a rugged attempt of humour from behind.

She cursed, whipping the packet back into her satchel and smothering the waste in a sideward shuffle of a boot.

In the wall, his glassy shimmer was tall against her back like a reaper. Crisp black leathers barely whispered when he strode further onward, his three toes finally curling over the ledge and splintering ice. Weariness came on her suddenly, as she donned her silken shawl once more. She shifted along the slab, her fingers fumbling with the fastenings and thread.

"Where do you come from?" Kjal began, gesturing to the distant mountains with a flat hand. Even at dusk the world remained smothered white. A cold, frozen void with subtle life. "Is it like this?"

"No," she answered honestly, recalling faraway memories of silver archways and moon-kissed seas. Illium was similar enough though never the same. "It was a different sort of beauty."

"Then, it is true. Even aliens are capable of seeing beauty in our eyes. Never thought you would."

She scoffed. "Did you think we saw only blacks and whites? No meshes of grey? You use the term _alien_ so loosely, but with dangers from the Kett I suppose I agree. In some sense."

The rescue leader loomed over her, thick of neck and green of face. There was such variety with their skin colours, from shades of blues to purples to even yellows. Half of his bloated crown rose as if a furrowed brow, a slanted vein making it even more so. "Most under my command are still concerned over you. They have a right to be. The Kett came at a time of peace for my people. They exploited our trust and generosity. Now, I find myself here, in charge of many things, be it moral, safety, extraction. It all weighs heavily on my mind. And I know that at the end of this raid, only a short few will return. None will be sorry to see you go.

"Which is why I'd like to know one thing. Can we trust you?"

Iyali'Talaas stared sullenly at the slow wind-swept clouds drifting from the eastern facing hillside, knowing deep in her heart that the truth was far more complex. "Yes."

Finality came in the drop of a device light in her lap. The quarian jolted back, only to notice the familiar shimmer of remnant technology. Her left hand warily encased the obsidian, tilting it over between two fingers and a thumb.

She lifted her visor, the twin lights within reflecting round and bright.

From his face came a thin smile. "We have enough sacrifices with our own. Don't waste what's close to you without proper thought and attention. Might be that device, might be a brother or a friend. Be ready for when that time comes. Keep what matters the closest."

He shook her shoulder before turning away, patting the shoulder of another angara who soon draped long legs over the ledge to her left. From her breathing apparatus came traces of ash and honey. Her nostrils lingered on the scent, her gut instantly mewing once more despite her eased hunger.

Even sat, Jaal Ama Darav was a head taller than her. Their shadows met together, blending into one when his arm danced across her silhouette, his hand only missing her waist by a metre. "So, you have spoken to Kjal. He has been fighting the Kett the longest, you know. I remember meeting him as a recruit when I was much younger. He told me about my elder brothers, how I should aspire to be like them. He is trusted by all angara under his command. A valiant leader. Like many, he cares for his own. I wonder, how do you feel now?"

Her inner biotics thrummed in tune with the small remnant device. She smiled despite herself, slipping the cube back into her satchel. "I'm unsure. I've never liked leaders. Never liked to follow orders unless they were my own. For a commander he is interesting. I'm not sure what else to say."

Jaal hummed thoughtfully. "I am sure that, in time, you will come to see him as I do. He lost his family to this war, his brothers, sisters, sons. He only has one daughter now in Aya. Many of us lose family but to lose them all… I dare not think on it."

Feeling a turn in conversation, the quarian sighed and leaned back on both arms. "So, where to now, Jaal Ama Darav?"

"I have spoken to Resistance Command. The coordinates Menra and the others provided suggest that the labour camp is near Techiix. It is one of our largest _daar_ _._ Many refugees on Voeld stay there for respite and healing. We are to pass there next with the supplies Hjara has offered us."

The quarian nodded, though her lips pursed in an unspoken question. Until she inhaled enough filtered air for courage. "And, once this is all done? What then?"

"Another close friend needs saving. I have spoken of her before. She was my mentor, the Moshae, and is beloved by all angara. She was taken many months ago. We have attempted rescue but never succeeded. I must help her if I can, Iyali. I owe her that much."

"Where is she being held?"

Sadness soon glazed his eyes, softened his hollow cheeks and dimmed the warmth from his complexion, leaving it a pallid, sickly pink. Ill and cold like glaciers. He inhaled a shuddering breath, one that stilled in the rise of his chest, as if the wind might claim the last of the air in one swift embrace.

His focus drifted from her to the horizon, landing on a bolt of light hitting the outlying temple like a hand from the divine. She had not noticed it through the storm, not with the lake and wind easily taking her thoughts. It was closer than on the cliff by the Resistance base. Close enough to see the jagged formations caging the spires, to see the pylons rising up its girth and the mossy crucifix mounded into its centre.

Understanding dawned on the quarian in that instant. "Oh."

There was a reason Jaal was so determined to come to Voeld. There was a reason why Voeld was on his list of planets to venture. It was not just the fact that it was the frontier of the ground war, nor was it because his people were becoming short and few. It was because his mentor lay claimed in a ritualistic prison, and he felt indebted to save her.

She had read stories of such adventures. Children's stories of heroism and chivalry. Such stories were always so damned inspiring, but inspiration could get someone killed. Would get him killed.

"Jaal Ama Darav, that is a suicide mission!" she hissed, waving her hands when he attempted to calm her. "You cannot be serious! Savings people is one situation that I can handle, but attempting to claim a temple which might have hundreds- thousands of Kett inside is mad. Foolish."

She rose, pacing the ledge with her sight clouded. The metal and snow blended into one, her bootprints faded into the image of meshing grey. "All your people talk about is family, of losing them. If you do this, your family lose you and you will continue a cycle of deaths until there is no one else to pass your line onto. I understand this Moshae is important to you, but would she want the young to sacrifice themselves for her? Would she want _you_ to do that?"

The idea was unfathomable, ridiculous, utterly mad! Was self preservation not a trait of the angara? Were all of them such kind-hearted fools?!

She paced and paced and paced until a blanket of snow slipped from the rooftops, _thumping_ the land near them. She recoiled, falling backward until her spine collided with the hardened crests of his chest. She twisted, striking with ire again and again, writhering, attempting to tumble out of his arms that only continued to wind so tightly around her. Until she was completely encased by black leathers and blue rofjinn, her hands still by her thighs.

Her heavy pants wheezed through her apparatus. She struggled once more before finally slumping her forehead down to his clavicle. "You're _so_ frustrating," she whispered, her helmet tilting under his chin. "So, so, _so_ frustrating."

"Then it seems we are at an impasse."

A small utter of confusion escaped her lips, drawing her eyes up to meet his. A steely blue that reminded her of the seas on Illium she used to be so fond of. "An impasse?"

"Angara are very expressive. When we are angry, we fight. When we are sad, we cry together. When we are happy, we sing to the stars. But you… I never know when you are upset, or happy, or angry. You never show your emotions unless you…" he paused, searching their feet for a correct translation, "explode."

The quarian pursed her lips, tipping her helmet to his left shoulder. "Explode?"

"Yes. I think so. I am unsure what the best description would be." He licked his lips nervously, the pink tongue snagging lightly on a stray fang. "When we are together, sometimes your passion, your fire burns through you like a star. It dazzles, inspires. But it is controlled. _You_ are controlled. Sometimes your passion disappears, and I find myself confused. Why hide what you are?"

A hand cupped her shielded cheek, a touch fond. "Why hide such brilliance?"

"Because of what you mean to me," she muttered, the true expression plummeting from her lips before her hands could cup such truth away. Cheeks burned lilac beneath her visor. Eyes lit in a dazzling luminance that cleared the cleansing mist in allowance of some of her true self to be seen through the scarred glass.

How she wished to be buried under the snow then and there. Only, the high rising warmth in her skin may have melted the very deepest of ice away. "I… I meant," she stammered, finally resting her cupped visor under his chin. "Keelah, I did not mean… _that."_

Despite her expectations, she felt the heady rise and fall of mirth jolting his chest. Oar-like arms wound round her waist twice as tight, squeezing the humiliation from her prickling flesh and aching bones. "This!" he exclaimed, stealing her feet from the snow and spinning her to the very edge of the ledge. " _This_ is what I adore! Your true self."

He grinned from cheek to cheek. He swept her hands away one by one, then carefully traced the lights of her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "Why do you hide such emotion? Please, tell me. I wish to understand."

"I'm unsure I understand what is happening myself," she answered truthfully, feeling her chest flutter in nerves. She attempted to suppress the emotions with a hand, cradling her throat. Still the sickness persisted, leaving her feverish.

Instead of causing her further bewilderment, Jaal Ama Darav quietly nodded. He slipped away, causing her to feel cold and bare. "I would still like to show you something, once we meet Techiix," he said, taking her left hand. "You have liked every marvel I had yet to show you. Perhaps one more might ease the burden from your heart."

He closed the distance once more, slipping a hand down her waist. "The Moshae is important to all angara. I must see her free. Even if that means I must go alone. Do not worry for me, dear heart. Only worry on our main objective. All will become clear, in time."

Around them the wind begun to suddenly rise, so much so that they could hear the thinnest of metal creak around them. Blanketed snow plummeted from the roves. The wind swirled the lighter snow further inland and from the distant temple, thick excursions of cloud dimmed its authority over the lower lands and valleys. Even the strike of divinity from its crowning sceptre vanished.

A storm was coming.


	23. One More Miracle

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twenty Three: One More Miracle

She knew as soon as her feet touched the ice that something about Lake Tavetara was not right.

It _sung_ , sweetly even in the beginnings of a storm. The vibrations could be felt through the reflection beneath her, even though that seemed to twinkle in deeper lights, reminding the quarian of longship and family. She was not sure why the deep moans encouraged memories of such, or of a long forgotten sea with white tumbling waves. It was almost wistful.

Grazing her hands along the cold, she begun to sweep the softer patches of snow away. When she did, she found ghostly apparitions gliding underneath in spines of lights. Leviathans of the deep.

Another hand joined hers, one of three webbed fingers, a gloved single and a thumb. And she thought the venture to the colony of Techiix would be a boring one.

Indeed, the journey to such a place was difficult through the storm. Many times the land rover stilled in a gulch or mountain pass, only able to be dislodged by the combined lift of the crew. It was only once they finally slipped into the sloping face of a valley did they come across the great expanse of a frozen lake, though the angaran _daar_ was no smaller.

An entire alcove of seventeen to eighteen huts all piled under the hardened dome of a cave, was the town of Techiix. Most of the ceiling had the pocked exterior of a natural formation, while deeper excavations had the smooth cuts of a well-machined stone mason. Rivers split the sections lacking stone, though those too had been frozen.

"Is this what you wished me to see?" Iyali'Talaas asked, her own voice quiet in awe.

When she thought she could withdstand such surprises, there were far more to be uncovered.

Jaal murmured over the wind. Since their arrival much of the storm had come to the pass, gathering the softest of snowflakes into an indomitable cloud. The further expanse of lake could scaresly be seen, only the circular platform in the centre of the shoreline that held a glowing heater on its surface.

"We have few wonders anymore. There were far more in the old stories before the Scourge. Those we have, I am more than willing to share."

Her fingers followed the leviathan scales over the ice, forming patterns and swirls. "Tell me about them."

His voice adopted a rare deep tone to it, reminding the quarian of an elder seer lost to memory. "They are called the yevara. My true mother used to tell of how they sang from the oceans and lured the sun out of hiding. How in ancient times they guided angara ships to safe shores. And of how during storms they would cast their glow over the waves, stilling the sea to ripples to allow my people safe crossing. They are intelligent, amazing creatures. I wish only to have seen them once. I suppose their reflections will do."

"Incredible."

Jaal chuckled, taking her hand and aiding in her rise. "Indeed, they are. I see that same brightness in you sometimes. Amazing and radiant."

The quarian felt her cheeks burn once more, and quickly returned to the ice.

Jaal noticed the thickening of snow in the air and guided her towards the town. "Come, the storm is getting worse. I will show you the yevara in the morning, when it has passed."

Inside the cove of Techiix the snowdrift scattered, then disappeared. Stairways and bridges connected most of the town together, with only the stray natural crossing allowing some lands to clash. Either side of the quarian, remnants of the rescue team she had come with carried the remaining supply crates into the town, stacking them in walls along the inner perimeter.

Jaal and Iyali'Taalas followed them to Kjal who stood over the stacks on a looming ramp, counting them, it seemed, in the dozen.

"Twelve crates of ammunition cartridges," he growled, lowly. "Eight crates of food rations. Two crates of armour. What in the name of Efvra where those scientists thinking? This isn't a ration for a war. It's a ration for scavengers!" He sighed, lightly prodding his swollen crown. "We lost three crates in the journey here. No point getting a team out there in this storm. I doubt they'll still be there by morning, damn wilds. The people here will starve in the next month if we don't bring back more food on our next errand."

"I could send word to the Resistance," Jaal suggested, "we might be able to get an aerial drop deployed."

Kjal waved his fist in fury, twisting to stride across the platform with Jaal and Iyali'Talaas following quickly. "Might as well send a homing beacon to the Kett. Tell them we're here instead of defending ourselves. No, we're stuck in this mess. The Resistance doesn't have the supplies to hand out. We're on our own out here."

Iyali'Talaas doubled her strides, attempting to keep up with both angara. _Curse their long legs. "_ What about patrols? Maybe they can go by foot to Hjara Station, bring back supplies separately?"

He scoffed. "You may think we're made of sturdy stock, girl, but no angara can survive a storm that big. It'll be a waste of time sending men out there instead of defending the walls." He halted by two neighbouring huts, gesturing to them with open hands. "Your bunk for the night. Refugees from a neighbouring colony took the majority of them, but I managed to persuade the people here to provide two more bunks. Get comfy and rested."

He caught Jaal's shoulder before he entered, forcing it down to his face. "Sleep light. Be ready to move. I have a bad feeling about the storm. Trouble might be here sooner than we planned."

Jaal cast a curious glance. "How do you know, Kjal?"

"Was too quiet when we came here. No passing airships. No tracks on the snow. Nothing. Might be an old commander's wary mind, but with an envoy as large as ours, so very few make it to base. Keep your weapon close. I'll be telling my men to do the same."

Jaal nodded in understanding. "I will."

The commander left in a slink of black leather, leaving the quarian to enter the hut with Jaal striding far too close behind.

The interior of the hut was only small, a four-by-four cube of rusted metal and leaking conduits. There were crates and terminals enclosing many of the corners, with five single bunks of foam mattresses and water basins occupying the rest.

Iyali'Talaas slipped over the edge of one bunk, sliding her legs across the breadth. _Cosy_.

Jaal claimed the neighbouring bunk, immediately snatching supplies from nearby tables and slipping them into pockets beneath his rofjinn. Despite the attempted respite he seemed more on edge then when they were in the land rover, muttering curses under his breath.

"Jaal Ama Darav, you do not think that what Kjal De Onaad said was true, yes?" she asked, noticing the abrupt pause in his motion.

He grasped the frame of the bunk, leaning slightly over. "I'm not sure."

Her lips thinned wryly, her fingers rising to cradle her neck. "If the Kett have already been here once, surely they would not attempt a second capture so quickly. They would know we were alert, ready for them, surely."

In the shady ceiling-light his face shadowed when bent. Only his monacle glowed against his skin, highlighting the venomous ire in his eyes and the upturned curl of a lip that needed only a snarl to complete it. "The Kett are ruthless. Beyond comprehension. They do not need a reason. They just _do_."

He sighed, wiping beaded vapour from his brow. "Too many angara have been taken by surprise. Kjal knows this. If he thinks we will be attacked, we may be attacked." He glanced to a cabinet, striding over to take from within a pistol and cartridges. He returned to her just as swiftly, closing each in her hand.

"Keep these with you. It is only a standard pistol, but should you run out of ammunition, use this. It will keep you safe."

He took her left hand, placing it under his chin. "The Kett brutes are weakest here. Aim for the neck if you can." Her hand swept across his chest to his stomach, mapping it for weakness, ending in a point just above his pelvic bone. "And here. Stay far away from them, if you can. I have seen many brothers die from the wounds they inflict."

Her lips parted questionably. "Jaal-"

"Those with a star crest are more formidable. Their weakness is the face, like so." He placed her fingers over his cheek, curling them in as if to strike. He saw the questions fluttering across her eyes and frowned. "Do not hesitate. They won't."

"I know, but Jaal-"

"They have leaders. It is rare but in this fight they may-"

She clasped her hand over his mouth, shushing him with a hiss. "Keelah, Jaal Ama Darav. Your worry is misplaced. I have fought Kett before."

"Never in a war," he warned, removing her gloved hand from his lips. He loomed over her, his eyes shifting like storm waves. "Never in _this_ war. The Kett here fight differently. Perhaps under the authority of a new commander, I'm unsure. But you will need to know these things if you are to survive."

"Why tell me now? Why not sooner?"

The waves slowly softened to a calmer tide. His eyes danced across her before changing, choosing instead to stare at the space between them, as if a quake from the earth would splinter the ice and tear them apart. "I didn't think we would be ambushed so soon. I thought…" He sighed. "I thought we had more time."

Her fingers trailed along his jaw, a question still on the tip of her lips. One that needed an answer. "More time to…?"

She knew he wished to say more. The aching sorrow creasing his strange, handsome face spoke more than just words - it spoke of soul, of hopes and desires. Yet she knew the tumbling of a heartfelt explanation would only effect them more than just a friendship would, and so she pressed a finger to his lips once more, watching in regret when she backed away, each step stabbing her heart in needle points.

Then she turned to face her bunk fully. "We should rest, I think. If there is to be an ambush, we should be ready. I know how to defeat the Kett. You do not need to worry."

She heard the clearance of his throat; felt the utter confusion directed at her back. She must have bewildered him terribly with her emotions. But that confusion was the only excuse she had should their feelings grow beyond what they already were.

They slept in the hut that night among two others. Iyali'Talaas departed at the call of midnight. She did not return even when weaponfire sounded beyond the walls of Techiix.

…

Lake Tavetara could be heard from deep within the town, and so could the low moans of the yevara. They had lulled the quarian to sleep just like she dreamed the dos-vasoen would on Havarl. In that time she stirred little, until the otherworldly moans faded into nothingness. With the hums gone it took only a grunt from the sleeping to wake her. And when she awoke, she found herself elapsed in deathly quiet.

The quarian slipped through her bedcovers effortlessly, only massaging her knuckles over her gloves, feeling the elastic slowly thaw.

 _How peculiar,_ she thought, peeking around. _Has Syrus not yet returned?_

In the far corner of the hut, his blankets had remained untouched. She was sure their leader had mentioned the place to him. For him to be gone for so long was a worrisome thing, and had her leaving the hut immediately in search.

She passed over the local ramps like a pariah, wary and slightly crouched. Along the ramparts she saw the black-suited forms of soldiers on patrol, but the further outward she dared to drift, the less of them there seemed to be. It could have been due to the storm. Still, it made her search far easier, especially when she found a trail of talon marks scarring the snow.

Shared mentality, Syrus and Iyali'Talaas had. Years of solitary life had harshened them both into set ways, alike instincts. Syrus Vitarian would not have stayed within the heart of the town for seclusion. No, he would have found a way to the frontier, amongst the unruly claws of the storm if it needed be.

She continued to follow his trail until metal replaced the ice. She then shifted over fallen stalactites and under rattling icicles until she saw a jagged silhouette on the horizon, crouched under the rim of the platform, heels deep in snow and a bottle slipping between his mandibles.

Even with the wind beating the mountain, the smell of acidic salt never did quite disappear.

She wafted the rushing snowflakes away with an arm, shielded her visor with the other. Her legs stumbled over rubble and rocks to his side.

"Ah, the explorer returns!" the turian grinned, waving the bottle triumphantly in the air. "How valiant of you… to… to come searching for an old veteran like myself! I would share but I fear I may have drank it all. How brilliant."

The quarian clutched the platform's railing for support, feeling the wind knock into her enviro-suit several times over. "Syrus," she gasped, with metal creaking overhead and her shawl flying in all manner of directions, "what do you think you are doing?"

His sharp features soured momentarily, as if contemplating a serious answer. He raised the bottle once more, downing the contents from the neck. He sighed, wiping the dribbling black liquid with a claw and the coats of frost from his cheek-plates. "Doing? What have I been doing? What have you been doing? Huh? Look what I have become. Because of you."

"M-me?" she asked, confusion stammering her words. "You have not spoken to me in days. You leave me at every moment, and when I try to talk, you push me aside! Syrus, what can I do when you will not talk to me and decide to drink yourself into this stupor?"

He eyed the bottle sadly, eventually shaking his head. "You wouldn't… understand." He seemed to falter, perhaps in attempt to keep the scorn out his voice, only it drew more sharp and keen. "Damn it, kid. You wouldn't understand!"

"Tell me, then! Tell me what I can do to make this right. Please."

His eyes narrowed and a flush crept up from his steel collar, even though the weather had beaten his armour grey. "I remember when I first saw you, kid. The day I truly first saw you. A starving welp in some forgotten slum with little credits to your name. I remember the humans beating you down. I remember the thugs chasing you across the streets when you begged for food. I remember seeing you cower in an alley when they ripped open your tin and chopped your flesh up like serrated fish. And I remember the look you gave me. The look of a highborn child too starving to know better. The look of a kid so young and terrified, and then for the bright spark in your eyes to die when you realised…" he stuttered, snapping his specs from his stunted nose and rubbing his eyes with an arm, "that it was going to be your end. And I… I _couldn't_ … let them do that to you."

When his eyes met the floor, his scales had gone deathly pale. "I'd seen that look before, you know. In my own little brother on Palaven, before the First Contact War got him killed. _Civilian casualty,_ " he spat, wiping the essence of horosk from his tongue. "He was eight cycles old, barely older than you. I never got to see the body. Was told there was nothing left."

Iyali'Talaas felt her lips go numb, her hands shake.

"You were so much like him. I promised myself, I _promised_ , I would never let that happen to you. Not because you were just some gutter rat from the streets begging. No. Because your eyes were like his the day I said goodbye. He had lost all hope of my return. I know it. I _saw_ it. It was like I was already dead in his eyes when I shut that door. I… I didn't know going forward that it was going to be the last thing I see each time I close my eyes to sleep."

He chuckled darkly, shattering the bottle against the mountain wall. "And seeing you now. Your eyes have never been so alive. And I should feel happy for you. I know I should. But I know, in this war you've got us into, that the brightness you have will disappear once more, be it from that flat-crown's death, or my death, or even Messenger's death. There's nothing I can do to protect you from it. Hah, you really have no idea what a comfort that is. Knowing the truth before it happens. 'Least I can say I've made my peace with it."

Iyali'Talaas stared at the shattered fragments of the horosk bottle, seeing each shard mirroring her. She was white and ghostly in each, like she was already dead. Just as he foretold.

The shards soon blurred, not from the speckles swiftly smothering the glass, but from grief in knowing the truth. "I…" her lips quivered, sobs attempting to claim her body yet for the first time in her own history, she willed her emotions to flow free. "I…"

A bolt hissed through the eye of the storm - a spark of emerald energy that dominated the surrounding white.

"I…" The quarian frowned, feeling her legs go instantly numb. Her fingers clutched on her waist tight. A sticky liquid trickled out. The last she saw standing was her turian leaping forward before she heard the crunch of soft snow. "I…"

She did not feel the scraping of claws along her back, the lift of her head or the snowflakes falling from her shawl like wet ash. She did not hear the shrieks of another or the wailing of his cries. His face surrounded her, but even bare-plated that he was, all that came to her mind was _what happened?_

When his face nuzzled her chest she saw a magnificent display of crossing light behind him. Glinting energy sweeping across the storm - wraiths dancing together. _Had the yevara rose from the ice?_

On the other side, similar beams struck the shadowed mouth of the cave. Stars winking in the opening of Techiix. At least, she thought they were stars. Further forms scattered from the town, long black legs and rounded helmets; each holding long wands that breathed power.

The quarian blinked, recognising one of them flaring across the valley in cerulean rofjinn And then the mountain groaned. Weapon fire dazzled the rock above her. Syrus swung his arms around her waist, tried to roll her backward. But the mountain protested too much, demanded immediate blood. In a shuddering _crack_ nature leapt from the wall, tumbling over her until all had been devoured by blackness.

Inside her visor, individual lights remotely switched on. The darkess bore her down, but her visor illuminated the white cracks in her glass and the underside bumps of rough formations sleeved in ice. She groaned, where once she felt warmth and comfort, she now felt sticky and pain. Her fingers still clutched the injury. The liquid stuck them to her.

Then, near suddenly, the rocks above her begun to tilt back. Flakes filtered through the cracks, but a shadow loomed above. Oval-like, broad-shouldered. All black. She breathed in the freedom of the storm, where the world begun to pass beneath her while hands pulled her free from her grave.

She squinted through the light, narrowing her eyes into slits. Her gave was hazy, distant. _Yellow_ _skin… scarred eye… a swollen crown? Kjal De Onaad?_

It seemed he was concerned, for the moment. His eyes roamed her visor, his hands faltered by her waist. Then he settled on her legs where he hooked them between his arms and pulled her back.

"S-Syrus?" she moaned, writhering in her current hold, only to see the cracked blue lenses of his specs slowly passing her by. Her awareness peaked. "S-Syrus? Where… where are you?"

Her body dug a low trail through the valley, as did an ever-withering red smear. Resting her head against the snow, all she saw was the upside down view of Techiix gradually leaving her. The twinkling stars of weapon fire grew further distant, as did the twisted spires within the cave, until the shadowed formations of the angara were only sticks in cloud.

A grander vessel instead chose to greet her. A long, oval blur with lights on its front and sides. Kjal De Onaad dropped her legs with a grunt, leaving her helplessly spread out. He knelt down to her, tipped her visor up by the chin.

The quarian frowned for the moment, unsure of why he seemed so sad. And then stronger arms retook her legs - a taller male with a squarer face. She was dragged anew until the snout of the ever-growing starship bayed her welcome under its wing.

A compartment opened from the lamina base. A ramp that dug deeply into the valley without mercy. Her world tilted on an axis, though upward she was dragged.

The last the quarian saw was a dashing flare of shadow on two legs, flashing cerulean blue before her world disappeared into midnight shadow.

...

..

.

As you can tell, I'm terrible at writing violence in scenes. Ah, well. I've been meaning for ages to get this far into the story. This is where it gets very interesting but I'm hoping you're all enjoying the story so far. Again, a huge thank you to HeavenlyCondemned and everyone else who has read/commented on this story. You're the best.


	24. Come Asunder

**Vas Messenger**

Chapter Twenty-Four: Come Asunder

In two days she had found the missing colony of Techiix.

The angara, for all their planning, had been correct. The colony had been so close to them, that if they had simply delved through the snow on a slightly different tragectory, they may have slipped into the heart of a Kett recruitment facility. Only, they had not, and when the harsher storms begun to fall across the land, the facility simply vanished into the mountains, becoming one with the very nature on Voeld whilst smothering the cries of its people completely.

Her stay with the colonists never became more than a matter of days. On the fourth she had been relocated to a section of the world she had never witnessed, and perhaps never truly would.

When Iyali'Talaas finally awoke, it was after experiencing a very strange dream. One of snow and shadows and voices, and of a figure shrouded in cerulean blue. Instead of continueing that dream, she found her legs dangling below her, naked and fraily pale. Strung between two lamina rods; coaxed to relax by a quiet hum that pulsed through her very muscles, and eased them into a delicate, gentle swing.

Behind her was a warmth designed by the very deviance of a society well equiped in defining anatomy. Her temperature remained stable. Her vitals secure. Her gaze drifted across her abode, clouded by a watery sheen that held an incredible likeness to oil. Then she felt light, like she was drifting weightlessly in the light of a sun with only clean sculpted stone beneath her should she fall.

Faraway she managed to spy walls, pillars; efigys alternating between archways. It was an usually sharp hall that stretched long before her, bending slightly with the curvature of a ship. It was all sleek, graceful stone and grey metal, with the walls thronged by faces, crafted in the design of only one true lord, though she had never seen his likeness before.

Strong impish features floated imposingly over the hall, carved onto bountiful reserves of textered rock that held the likeness of wrought granite, yet were also crowned by a ring of solid gold matter that swirled over an inflated brow like a planet ring encrusted in scriptures of living bioluminescence. For the lightsource above her and the ones heralding kett superiorty were the only radiances in such a vast atrium, that held far more shadows than even the universe could keep.

Along the floor one shadow did rise from the darkness, slipping daintily into her light. Iyali'Talaas groaned in her attempt to identify it, yet even then her eyes drifted in time with the lull of her life-pod, whilst her body craved none other than blissful rest.

 _Sleep to the lullabys of Havarl,_ a voice whispered to her, while she listened to quiet chimes of foreign technology, reminding her of insects chirping in an alien undergrowth. _Sleep to the sounds of the dos-vesoan, and dream._

For one brief moment she succumbed to her thoughts. The next, she heard the voice resonate across nearby walls like a boundless embrace, swiftly seeping into her ears in an array of multi-tones.

Iylai'Talaas raised her chin, and though far more than disorientated, she recognised the sight of a skull peering up from beneath her toes, lit in her lifepod's faint emerald glow. Arms bowed as if in prayer, the lifeform stepped slowly into her shadow, twisting its bony mandibles up to her in appreciation.

"Ascend, my chosen," it said, arching its arms suspiciously high. Iyali'Talaas quietly shook her head. The lifeform hummed in contempt and in a matter of heartbeats, rose from its stone walkway to her shoulders to lie a hand against her cheek. "Bless you child, for you are unqiue."

The quarian dazedly watched the kett in disbelief, as understanding finally begun to shine its brilliance upon her. Her attention shifted between her restraints, then returned to the kett in question. "U... unique...?"

"Yes, my chosen. Unique. We have come to know much regarding foreign visits to our home-sphere. We have catelogued many. Though, not you. Tell me. What _are_ you?"

The way the Kett stared at her, tilting its star-cut skull at every offered gesture, made the quarian realise that she was merely a specimen to be studied. Still, despite her circumstances, she could not help but become equally interested in her captor, for she had never seen one such as him so close and personal. It was almost pleasing.

Leathery sinew pulled taut across a square face, it was the in-curled pinsor-like exoskeleton that harkened an insectoid ancestry to the kett itself, though the genuine intelligence mirrored in its small glass pupils was the one element that caused the quarian to ponder on its actual alienness.

In a way she could see a familiarity to other species she knew. The glinting intelligence of a salarian. The graceful gait of an asari matriach. The broad, angled anatomy of a turian soldier. That, for some reason, quenched a little of her unsurety into its intentions.

Though when she felt a draft crawl up her spine, all other senses to the world around her vanished into obscurity. Her mind clung onto the one feeling she should never have had the chance to feel. A breeze.

Her enviro-suit.

It was gone.

For the first time in her life she was a witness to the very pastel pink complexion of her skin. She stared at the uncut nails of her toes and fingers, and of the light array of freckles dotting her otherwise naked thighs. She, a quarian, was exposed. Not only to the kett but to the environment around her. And yet... she felt _nothing._ No illness. No pain. Scarsely anything other than a lasting fatigue.

Questions spun through her mind like a storm, fogging her senses to all that was around her, including the kett's unheeded advances. Before she felt a jab of pain she caught sight of a flash of pure silver. Iyali'Talaas screamed when a rod mirroring that very colour plunged into her left shoulder, and it was only when her watery eyes whirled to it that she saw tubes curling from the handle.

The Kett grasped her jaw once more, hissing with clackering tongues, "If you will not tell us, chosen, we will find out ourselves."

A strange, acidic-scented fluid gradually slipped into those translucent tubes, worming up to Iyali'Talaas. The quarian instantly gasped - thrashed against the invisible force impeding her freedom. "Please. _Please-_ don't do this! Keelah, **_please!_** "

Heat of the fluid eagerly sought and simmered her already damaged flesh. The quarian could instantly imagine the type of vile, wicked reactions that would inhibit her. It might have been a numbing agent before the true experiments begun. It might have been poison, used to dull her senses before the ortopsies started.

Fear in its rawest form quickly became an uncontrollable saviour. As her arms and legs begun to violently shake, a vibrant surge of bio-electricity sprung from her chest, cloaking her entire quivering mass in a bubble of pure, unrelenting energy. As soon as the fluid reached her shield it ceased moving altogether - trapped inside the translucent tubes with nowhere to go but the original source.

Tears sprung from the quarian's eyes yet she did not let relent. It may have hurt to use her biotics, but the twinge of ache was nothing compared to the atrosticies she was sure the kett had planned for her.

In seeking understanding, the kett watched her biotic presentation with awe-struck eyes. It rose once more to her front to test the physical exertion of her vitality with its hands. Once struck by an electrical charge, it withdrew with mild irritation. "You hold many secrets, chosen. Many secrets."

Landing firmly on the ground, it took to typing into an organic keypad, frowning as it spoke. "Our Archon has studied the ones you call 'asari'. Their reproduction is a mixture of biology, thought and memory. They take what they need from a species. A trait our pantheon highly values. The superior race dominates, and the pantheon continues.

"The asari herald a similar... _symbiote_ to you, chosen. Familiar nodules embedded into their bolidy tissues that aid in the augmentation of their generated gravitational vortices. If this chemical you possess, this element zero, can be harnessed, I see only enlightenment for all the fleet. So you see, you may not wish to be studied. You may not wish to be void of your organs and deoxyribonucleic acid. That, though my chosen, is not a choice you have.

"I will wait, if necessary. I know from my many subjects that your forcefield will dissipate, eventually. And when it does, we are going to share much pleasure in our mutual understandings of one another. And I, my chosen, yearn for it."

The kett returned its attention to the quarian for only a moment, yet in that time it had managed to twist its mandibles into the crudest of smirks, one that instantly filled her heart with dread.

"For I am the Architect, and you will be my greatest exaltation."


End file.
